


The Song of the White Wolf (will always be sung alone)

by I_bite_my_thumb_at_thee



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety Attacks, Canon-Typical Violence, Canon-typical swearing, Curse Breaking, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Jaskier has insecurities and also anxiety, M/M, Major Character Injury, Monsters, Mutual Pining, No Beta, Post-Episode: S01E06 Rare Species, Protective Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Wolf!Geralt, cursed geralt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-17
Updated: 2020-03-27
Packaged: 2021-03-01 05:06:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 35,870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23189704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/I_bite_my_thumb_at_thee/pseuds/I_bite_my_thumb_at_thee
Summary: Months after that day on the mountain, Jaskier comes across a wolf does not behave as wolves usually do. In fact, he seems to act quite like a certain witcher that told Jaskier that he never wanted to see him again. A certain witcher, who went out for a contract and didn't return.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 247
Kudos: 2130





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey there, this is my first fanfic, also I am not a native English speaker and I have absolutely no idea how commas work in English, so beware the cringe. I hope the characters are not too ooc. Critique is always welcome, but please be kind. Anyway, enjoy :)

Jaskier stumbled over a rock. Again. It was almost getting too dark to see where he was going. It probably was too dark to be walking in the woods on your own anyway. But what other choice did a heartbroken bard have after been kicked out of an inn again for singing songs that were to sad?  
Ok, so maybe there were a few better options than walking blindly into a nearby wood. He could have wooed someone and spend the night at their place. 

But the thought of flirting with someone so soon after what had happened made him sick. Also he was far too melodramatic to let his heartache be mended so soon. It was a great way of getting inspiration for his songs after all, even if his audience today didn’t appreciate it all that much. At least he had some bread thrown at him again, so there would be no going to bed hungry tonight. Although he would go to bed freezing and alone.  


“Fuck.”  


He just fell over something again. Maybe he should stay where he was. It was unlikely that he would find anything better anyway.  
Jaskier just put his lute case down, when he heard something from the bushes. A low rumbling. He froze. Slowly he crept towards the bushes and pushed the branches aside. And let them snap right back. Whatever these yellow eyes belonged to that had stared at him, he did not want to stay and find out.  


“Nope, nope, nope, no looking at monsters for me anymore,” he whispered to himself as he quickly shuffled backwards.  


His heart sped up as he watched the branches part and something big step through. And now Jaskier could recognize what it was.  
A wolf, bigger than usual and staring at him with piercing eyes. He felt himself begin to sweat. The wild animal could probably smell his fear. It began to growl again.  
Jaskier took a hesitant step back. The growling got louder. _Well at least it’s not a monster_ , Jaskier thought. Not that a wolf was any better. When having to choose between being eaten by a wolf or a beast, he would rather just run away, which is exactly what he did.  


Without looking back, he turned around and dashed through the woods. Behind him, he could hear a loud bark and the sound of heavy paws hitting the ground as the wolf chased after him. Branches hit him in the face. His clothes got caught in the twigs. _There is no way I can outrun a wolf_. He took a sharp turn to the right, hoping against hope that he might outsmart the wolf or at least buy himself some time.  


And suddenly he saw the light. Not that far away was a fire.  


Straining his ears Jaskier could hear laughter over his heavy breathing. _I’m so close. I just have to get to the fire and I’ll be save!_  


And somehow he made it. As he fell to his knees next to a surprised looking man, he heard the running wolf slowing down. He stayed still for a few moments until he was sure that the wolf was not going to jump at him anyways, before he turned around. And looked right at a sword that was pointed at his face.  


“And who are you?”, said the man who was attached to the weapon. He was bald, but had a beard the colour of rust. He did not look amused.  


“Jas-Jaskier, I…sorry, I need to breathe for a second.”  


The man exchanged a look with his dusty-blonde comrade who was sitting across from him. It didn’t take long for the bard to regain his breath.  


“Would you mind terribly not pointing that sword at me? I would hate if my pretty face would be ruined” he gave the man a disarming smile.  
He actually lowered his weapon, but Jaskier noticed that he did not put it away entirely.  


“Got anything else but a pretty face then, boy?”  


Jaskier smiled. “Well, I have been told by many a muse that I have the most beautiful singing voice. I would make for wonderful company at your fire.”  


The men exchanged looks again. This time the one who has been silent up until now stood up.  


“What he meant is: Do you have anything that might be of value for _us_? I don’t know… like money?”  


“I..what? Do I look like I would run through the woods if I had any money left?”  


Jaskier took a step back. And another. Only to be met with the third man behind him, he hadn’t seen before. Shit. They had him cornered.  


“Listen, I really don’t want any trouble.” The men came closer still, gripping their weapons more tightly.  


“We don’t want any trouble either. Just give us what you have and you can fuck right of, unharmed,” the blond man said with a sneer.  


Fuck, of course it was just his luck to escape a wolf, just to run into bandits. He held his hands up in what he hoped was a pacifying gesture.  


“See, I would love to, but I really don’t have-“ He was cut off by a loud inhuman snarl.  


“Shit.”  


The wolf from before jumped into the light of the fire. Great. Now he was not only going to be killed by bandits in some woods in the middle of fucking nowhere, he was also going to be eaten by a wolf afterwards. Fucking wonderful. The wolf growled again, baring its teeth.  


Jaskier felt the man at his back step away slightly. Well, he’s not going to take any chances staying here. While the bandits were still surprised by the creature in front of him, Jaskier made for a dashing escape. Meaning, he whirled around and immediately tripped over a branch lying on the floor. With a whump he landed in the dirt.  
He turned onto his back, just in time to see a blade come down onto him. He threw himself aside, just as the sword hit the ground where he had just lain. He scrambled to his feet and grabbed the branch he had fallen over. Not the best weapon, but at least it was something.  


For a moment he regretted that there were no witnesses apart from the bandits and the wolf. It would have made a wonderful story of the brave bard who died defending his life while being clearly outnumbered.  
On second thought, he did not like the idea of any story involving his own death.  


He swung the branch and felt the wood splinter as it met the steel of his attacker’s sword. Well, he at least he tried. He shrunk back, readying himself for the next attack, when suddenly the bandit was knocked to the side by something slamming into his side.  


The wolf had sprung at the man, right as he was about to slice Jaskier in half.  
Had he not been so shocked, Jaskier would have laughed. How ironic, now they are fighting over the privilege to kill him. It was almost flattering. Almost.  


But instead of coming after Jaskier, the wolf stood in front of him, snarling at the bandit who rose up again. Before the man could swing his sword again, the wolf bit him in the arm and dragged him to the ground. The scream of the man rang in Jaskier’s ears.  


_That could have been me, that could have been me_. The thought repeated over and over in his mind, as he watched his would-be murderer get mauled. He still stood frozen in place, staring at the bloody spectacle in a mixture of awe and disgust, when he heard a yell and the unmistakable whoosh of a bolt snapping from a crossbow.  


Instinctively he flinched and shut his eyes tight, before he heard a yelp and realised that the bolt had not been intended for him. Opening his eyes again, he really looked at the scene before him for the first time.  
Two of the men lay on the ground next to the fire. One was clearly dead, the other, heavily bled from a gashing wound on his leg. The dusty blond colour of his hair was dyed with blood. Seemingly unable to stand up, he supported his weight on his elbow while readying his crossbow for another shot.  


Jaskier’s eyes snapped to the wolf. The wolf who had chased him through the woods. The wolf who had wanted to eat him. The wolf who had protected him against the bandits. The wolf who was currently bleeding from a bolt that would have probably met Jaskier, had he been left to fend for his own. The wolf that was still trying to stand on its own legs and looking like it was ready to jump in front of Jaskier to save him from another attack.  


Before Jaskier could think it through, he ran to the man still capable of holding his weapon and kicked it out of his hand. Quickly he scuffled away, lest the man drew some hidden dagger. Jaskier had had enough bad luck as it is tonight.  


When the man didn’t seem inclined to attack again, Jaskier turned and hurried back through the bushes. He was not going to test his luck and stay there. No thank you, he was going to take the blond bandit’s advice from earlier and fuck right off.  


He had only made it a few steps when he heard it. The whine. Slowly he turned around and looked at the wolf.  
It had sunk down by now and was trying to get to the crossbow bolt with its teeth.  


“Hey there boy, careful, you’re going to hurt yourself more like that.” He tried to make his voice sound calming and gentle.  
Thankfully, it seemed as if all that soft singing of sad songs had paid off in making his voice calmer. The wolf actually stopped trying to gnaw the bolt and turned its ears to Jaskier.  


“Good boy,” he said, as he slowly crept closer.  


Apparently his talking worked on relaxing the wolf, so he just kept on rambling.  


“Thank you for saving me back there. That was really nice. Actually, you might just be the friendliest creature I’ve met today.”  


At that the wolf gave out a soft bark. Jaskier smiled tensely.  


“Well I hope that you just agreed to not eat me after all. I know that I am a snack, but right now I don’t think I’d make a good meal for you.”  


At that the wolf turned his head. He looked almost annoyed. But maybe he was just losing interest. Quickly Jaskier kept taking, as he came closer, before the wolf would start biting ans worsening the wound again.  


“Well, you know, killing me would be a really bad idea, especially because you just saved me. In fact, I am going to return the favour. Saving you I mean. I have absolutely no intention of eating you either, of course, but I meant-nevermind.”  


If it was possible, the wolf looked even more irritated. Jaskier really wasn’t going to have an appreciative audience today, was he?  


He reached the wolf and slowly kneeled down before him. His pulse quickened. He was still out of reach, but if he lifted his hand, the wolf might just be able to bite it off, should he chose to do so. He swallowed the lump that formed in his throat.  


“How about a deal. I am going to remove that bolt and you are going to let me keep my hand alright?”  


The wolf raised his head. Jaskier swallowed again.  


“Ok, here goes nothing.”  


He crept closer until he could reach the wolf easily. He held up his hand and slowly the wolf nuzzled it. Jaskier held his breath. _Please don’t bite me, please don’t-_  


He felt soft fur between his fingers as the wolf nudged his hand. A smile danced across Jaskiers lips. Getting braver (or more stupid, who knows) he moved his hand from the wolf’s snout to his back. The fur was so soft; Jaskier could have pet it forever.  


That is, until his fingers brushed something wet and sticky and the wolf growled at him.  
Immediately he snatched his hand back. How could he have forgotten the wound? That was the reason why he had come back in the first place!  


“Sorry, so sorry,” he muttered and reached out again, this time gently brushing the fur away to expose the wound on the wolf’s shoulder.  


It looked bad. Really bad.  


“Ok, so this is going to hurt like a bitch. No pun intended. I am going to yank the bolt out. And yes I know that you can’t understand me, but I’m panicking, so I’m going to talk.  
Actually, no, I think I am probably going to start to sing.”  


The wolf looked at him and nudged Jakier’s shoulder. He took it as a sign to continue. Maybe if he was lucky (he usually wasn’t) his singing would distract the wolf from his pain a bit.  


“Brave wolf, saving the bard in need, I’m going to yank this bolt now, with all my speed. I hope you don’t eat me, that would be really neat. “  


It wasn’t a good song by any means. The melody was way off and the rhymes…well in his defence, he was improvising and also currently preparing himself to save his saviour. But apparently it worked anyways. The wolf kept staring at him and turned his ears towards him, so as not to miss a single note of the song.  


“You’ll be better soon, then you can howl at the –“ he pulled with all his might and heard another yelp.  


For a moment he thought, it hadn’t worked and he had hurt the wolf even more, but then he looked at the bolt in his hand that was very clearly not attached to the wolf anymore. He let out a shaky laugh.  


“There you go, boy. Well done, you are a brave, good boy.”  


He dropped the weapon and wiped his now blood-soaked hands on his doublet. After a glance at the wolf, he shrugged the doublet off and pressed it against the wound.  
Hopefully that would stop the bleeding.  


“So… I don’t really know how long it usually takes for a wound to stop bleeding. I mean, you should think, I would know. I used to travel with this guy who would constantly get hurt, but he had his kind of healing superpower. Also he wasn’t a wolf- well, I did call him that but…anyways, I shouldn’t be talking about him.”  


A bark interrupted him. The wolf looked at him expectantly.  


“No really, I will not talk about him. My point was that I don’t think your wound will stop bleeding soon, so I guess, you’re stuck with me for a while. The doublet is ruined now anyways, might as well use it until you stop bleeding.”  


The wolf laid his head on his front paws and closed his eyes, resigning to his fate.  


“That is a wonderful idea. I think we all need a nap.”  


Despite that, he promised himself silently that he would stay awake, at least long enough to make sure that the wolf would not bleed to death.  


A low growl disrupted his thoughts. Then he heard a shuffling sound behind him and twisted slightly without taking his hand away from the wound.  
The man who had shot the crossbow had moved from his position on the ground. He froze as he noticed both Jaskier and the wolf staring at him tensely. He held his hands up in surrender and dragged himself away from them.  


“Don’t worry, I’m not stupid enough to fight that monster a second time,” he pressed through clenched teeth and pushed the strands of blond hair out of his eyes.  


Having seen, what the wolf did to the man’s companions, Jaskier didn’t doubt his words. Still he kept looking at him limp away, until he disappeared from sight, just to be save.  
Then he turned back to the wolf.  


“A shame that the others won’t be able leave. It’s kind of uncomfortable staying the night with two corpses around, wouldn’t you agree?”  


His humour fell flat. Travelling with a witcher, he had become used to seeing dead people, but the thought of spending the night next to the corpses of people who had wanted to kill him, sent a shiver down his spine.  


Well at least, he’d be somewhat warm with the campfire. And the flames might keep away any wild animals. Except for the wounded wolf in front of him, of course. He laughed nervously, but the wolf only flicked his ears back slightly.  


“You are a lovely conversationalist, has anyone told you that? But fret not, I can just fill the silence with my beautiful singing. It would be even better of course, if I had both of my hands unoccupied. Then I could play the lute as well. Thank you by the way, for not biting by hand off. I imagine, it would have been awfully hard to play the lute with only one hand. Can you imagi- my lute! Where- I must have left it somewhere!”  


He frantically looked around, searching the floor, as if he would be able to find it here. He could not remember taking it here. And even if he had, he would not be able to see it in the pitch black, that filled the area by now.  


“Oh no no nonono, I can’t just lose my lute, not now! It’s the only thing I have left.”  


His gaze fell on the bushes he had stormed through earlier. If he had left his beloved instrument on his flight from the wolf, there would be no chance, he would find it again.  


He felt the wolf nudge him again and saw, how he lowered his head. It almost looked apologetic. Jaskier sighed.  


“It’s not your fault. I will get a new one…somehow.”  


They sat in silence for a while, Jaskier silently lamenting his loss. After his eyes had drifted shut for the fifth time, only for him to open them in a panic again, he decided to take a look at the wound. Carefully, so as not to break any crust that might have formed, he lifted makeshift bandage.

“What the…?”  


Even with the still burning campfire it was too dark to properly see anything, but gently prodding where the bolt had been stuck not that long ago, Jaskier felt no wetness. In fact, he wasn’t even sure there as a bleeding wound left at all. Maybe he had missed the spot. Slowly he ran his fingers over the wolf’s body. Nothing. The dried up blood that clogged the wolf’s fur was the only indication that there had been a wound to begin with.  


“Well then. It looks like you do heal as fast as the other guy I mentioned. Huh, good for you. And good for me. That means I can finally sleep.”  


He stifled another yawn and finally laid down next to the wolf. He was too tired to be put out by the near-by corpses. He felt a wet tongue lick his cheek briefly and smiled.  


“You’re welcome,” he mumbled, before his eyes drifted shut.  


The steady breathing and the warmth of the wolf’s body next to his lulled him into sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

Jaskier coughed. Apparently sleeping on the floor in a forest meant that one would breath in the occasional leaf while sleeping. He just hoped he hadn’t accidently eaten a bug or something gross. 

He turned around trying to find a more comfortable sleeping position. It wouldn’t hurt to sleep a little longer. It’s not like he had anything else to do. He had no money and without his lute he had no way of changing that anytime soon. So what was there for him to do, if performing was not an option? (He refused to sing without instrumentals. He hadn’t sunk that low. Yet.) But he found that even the smallest movement hurt his back.

Damn, he missed sleeping on a real bed or at least a decent bedroll. He moved again and it became obvious that he would find no more sleep.

Groaning, he opened his eyes a bit to find the sun shine through the leaf canopy. With a lot of complaining he finally sat up. The fire must have burned down during the night. Thank Melitele that winter was finally over or Jaskier would have probably frozen to death. Not even the wolf’s body heat would have saved him then.

Wait, where was the wolf anyway? Jaskier looked around, all traces of the animal gone.

Well, it was probably for the best. Wolves were wild animals after all, they shouldn’t spend the night cuddling with humans. He probably walked away as soon as his hurt shoulder would allow it.

For some reason, Jaskier felt disappointed. He had known of course, that the wolf would leave, but he had felt some sort of comradery for him after having saved his live by him and helping him out in turn.

Maybe this was how his lovers felt, when he left in the morning, off to go on new adventures with his witcher? No, not his witcher. Never his. Geralt was _the_ , maybe even only _a_ witcher.  
After all, it seemed as if Jaskier had never really known him as well as he thought he did.

Jaskier sighed and stood up with aching joints. Brushing off his clothes, he looked around again.

He hadn’t noticed at first, but something felt off.  
He couldn’t pinpoint what exactly, before his eyes fell on the crossbow that was still lying on the ground. The bodies were gone. He spun around.  
Corpses didn’t just walk off. What if they were not just regular bandits? What if they were some kind of undead monsters and would come after him?  
But then he probably wouldn’t be standing here right now, if they were.

He looked closer at where they were lying before and noticed sander marks leading to the bushes. Something or someone must have dragged them away. Tentatively he made it to where the traces ended and reached out a hand to look behind the bushes.

Just as his hand touched the leaves, he heard something from the opposite direction. He turned around.

Through the rustling undergrowth peeked a familiar white pelt. It seemed like the wolf that walked backwards in Jaskier’s direction was struggling with something. Slowly, so he wouldn’t startle him, Jaskier come closer.

“Didn’t think I would see you again, friend”, he said cheerfully, trying to peak at the thing the wolf was evidentially dragging with him.

Maybe he had somehow caught a small animal and wanted to share the breakfast with his new friend. Jaskier grinned at the thought and froze. He recognized what was being dragged.  
Would recognize her anywhere.

“MY LUTE!”

Jaskier flew the last few steps towards the wolf and took the lute case from him. The strap still hanging loosely in the wolf’s mouth. He opened it and checked the instrument for injuries. She was unharmed. And more importantly she was back with him.

Jaskier closed the case again and threw his arms around the wolf’s neck. Some would call this a stupid action, but the wolf endured the hug with only mild noises of complain. Despite the growling, Jaskier could see his tail wagging.

“Oh thank you, thank you, you loveliest of creatures! You just saved my life- again!”

He cuddled the wolf tighter for a second before releasing him. Jaskier beamed. With a happy woof the wolf nudged his hand.

“What is it, boy? Are you waiting for a reward for saving my life? I assume it is only fair. You could probably claim the law of surprise now.”

He laughed at his own joke. The wolf didn’t seem to appreciate his humour. He instantly stopped wagging his tail and growled again. Jaskier quickly backpedalled.

“Alright, maybe not. I wouldn’t know if it would work with animals anyways. And I guess I did sort of save your live too yesterday, what with my amazing surgery. So we’re even for at least one of your life saving actions. For the lute, I think it would be most befitting, if I composed a song for you. The best ballad for the best wolf-friend out there!”

The wolf looked unimpressed. As much as it was possible for him to do so.  
Jaskier’s hand flew to his heart in the overly dramatic manner, that he only used, when being insulted for his singing.

“You wound me! I recall you were quite fond of my singing yesterday.”

The wolf barked at that.

“Well, too bad, I am going to sing about you regardless. If you don’t want to be my new muse, you should stop being so brave and inspirational.  
Also weird. No offence, but I don’t think wolves are supposed to save bards in distress. It’s almost like in these stories, maybe you’re a cursed prince and I have to kiss you to lift the curse. HA! I am hilarious!”

The wolf shook his head. Suddenly he stood on his hind legs and steadied himself with his front paws on Jaskier’s chest. He barked once again. Jaskier stopped laughing and held his hands up in surrender.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m sorry, I’m just joking. Didn’t mean to offend you. You are a great wolf.”

At that the wolf got back down on all fours and turned away with a huff.

“Alright, so you don’t appreciate my singing and you don’t want to challenge destiny. Sounds like someone else I know. What else could I give you, let’s see… I still got bread in my trousers!,” he exclaimed, fishing for the bread the people at the inn had been thrown at him yesterday.

He broke it in half and held it out to his new friend, who sniffed it, clearly underwhelmed. Jaskier gave him an apologetic smile.

“Sorry, I guess it is old and kind of gross. But at least it’s something. Do wolves even eat bread?”

The wolf tilted his head to the side, like he was wondering the same thing. He must have reached a conclusion, because he took the bread from Jaskier’s hand, careful not to accidently hurt him with his teeth. Well, that answered that question. Jakier pet his new friend’s head as he ate his own piece of bread. It really wasn’t that good, but at least it was edible. Still, Jaskier probably wouldn’t ask for a second serving.  
The wolf seemed to disagree, because he sniffed Jaskier’s now empty hand and gave it a lick.

“Sorry, no more food left,” Jaskier mumbled, as he let his fingers glide through the soft fur.

“You are absolutely beautiful. Has anyone ever told you that? Although that dried blood does somewhat ruin the aesthetic. Here, let me-“ Jaskier looked around quickly for the water skin he luckily had thought to carry around with him.

He stood up and went to get the ruined doublet he had used before to stop the bleeding. It was not completely bled through, thank goodness. He poured a bit of the water on it, careful not to waste any. Gently he used the cloth to wash away the blood.

“There, now you look presentable again.”

He parted the fur on the wolf’s shoulder. Now in the daylight, he could see that the wound was not entirely healed as he had previously thought. But apparently it was still healed enough that the wolf could drag a lute – and two corpses, Jaskier realized - around. Jaskier gently prodded at his shoulder and saw the wolf wince slightly and let out a repressed yelp. Jaskier put his hands on his hips.

“Oh, so you are still hurt.” He did realize that he sounded like a scolding mother talking to a misbehaving child, but continued nonetheless. “If you’re hurt, you shouldn’t carry heavy stuff, just to make me more comfortable. I really appreciate the lute, but you could have just shown me the way. That would have been easier for you. And don’t give me that look. I think by now we both have realized, that I am reckless enough to follow a wolf into the woods. And I assume, you dragged the corpses away as well? Again, I appreciate not having to wake up next to two dead people, but by Melitele’s tits, take care of yourself!”

The wolf ducked his head as if ashamed.

“Well, I guess, I’ll just have to take care of you for you. And apparently you like taking care of me as well? Ha, two people with zero self-preservation or survival instincts looking out for each other- fancy that.”

The wolf licked over Jaskier’s hand again.

“Well then, I guess if we are to travel together, we will need some supplies. I can’t rely on people throwing bread at me all the time and I sure hope you don’t think about hunting anytime soon with your shoulder.”He wagged a finger in his new companion’s direction. “Mind showing me, where you took those bandits?”

The wolf tilted his head and twisted his ears towards him, before making his way over to the bushes Jaskier had been inspecting in the morning. So it seemed that he was not completely useless reading tracks.

He followed the wolf far beyond the bushes. Apparently the animal had been really efficient in dragging the men away. That explained why there had been no stench this morning. When they reached the bodies, the wolf looked at him expectantly. Jaskier swallowed and held his breath, to keep from breathing in the corpse-air.

He searched through the man’s pockets as quickly as possible. He tried forgetting that he was touching a dead person and robbing him of his belongings, but failed miserable.  
He did come up with a bag with some coin, not much by the looks of it, but it was heavy enough to ensure that he could pay for a nice hot bath and a room at the next town he would come across. Oh, what he would give for some hot water and a comfortable bed right now!

He made his way over to the other man and caught the wolf’s eyes. The animal’s stare made him a bit uncomfortable. He averted his eyes.

“What? They tried to kill both of us just yesterday, I don’t feel bad about taking their stuff.”

A lie.

“So don’t judge me.”

He looked back up. The wolf held his stare for a few more seconds, before trotting to the second man. It was the one with the beard who had threatened Jaskier first.  
He sniffed a bit, before coming back to Jaskier, carrying something in his mouth.  
Looking closer, Jaskier recognized a sheathed knife. The wolf dropped it in front of Jaskier. He furrowed his brow.

“Oh that’s…thanks. But I’m not really good with weapons, you know? I’m more of a fight people with my charm and my words type of person.”

Some might also call him a run-and-call-for-Geralt-to-help-him kind of person, but those days were in the past. The wolf growled (He seemed to do that a lot) and pushed the knife closer to Jaskier with his snout.  
Jaskier sighed. Maybe it was a good idea to not walk around unarmed. Now that he didn’t have a scary looking witcher at his side, people were more likely to see him as easy prey.  
And as much as he talked about looking out for each other, Jaskier couldn’t expect a wild animal to follow after him like a puppy.

“Alright then,” he said and carefully unsheathed the knife, praying that he would never have to use it.

“You know, actually a frien- a guy I once knew tried to teach me how to defend myself. He gave up rather quickly, of course, but it’s still better than nothing, I suppose. Can’t rely on you coming to my rescue all the time now, can I?”

He looked down at the wolf, who seemed to contemplate what he’d said. Then he licked his hand and pressed his head against Jaskier’s leg.  
Almost as if to say that he disagreed with Jaskier’s words.


	3. Chapter 3

They have been walking for a while. Jaskier really hoped that they would reach the end of the forest soon. He side-eyed the wolf. 

Although he walked next to or slightly behind him, it seemed to Jaskier, as if he subtly guided him. Or maybe that was just wishful thinking; the wolf’s instincts were bound to be better than his own after all.

He would never admit it, but despite his confident seeming stride, he had not the slightest idea, where he was going. So he just walked somewhat straight ahead until he noticed a slight turn in the wolf’s step.

It didn’t happen all that often that the wolf would give obvious signs of where he wanted to go though. It was almost as if he would rather let Jaskier make his own decisions and just follow him.

“You know who you remind me of?,” he asked and was met with a curious stare. Jaskier made a dramatic pause before spreading his arms theatrically. “Of me!”

The wolf made a sound that almost sounded like a snort and turned his head away.

“No, no, really. I’ve been told that I’m like a puppy following…others around. And I know what you want to say: that you are not a puppy but a big scary wolf. But I’ll have you know, that you are a big softie.”

The wolf made the noise again.

“Actually, I should just call you Jaskier Jr.”

The wolf stopped. Jaskier took a moment to notice. He turned around.

“What’s wrong, Jask Jr? Keep going.”

The wolf refused to move. Jaskier rolled his eyes.

“Oh come on, is it because of the name? I tell you, it’s an honour to be named after someone so wonderful as me.” No reaction. “Seriously? I’m not that bad. You, sir, are being seriously rude.”

Still the wolf stayed quiet. Jaskier went back to him and crouched down before him.

“Alright then. Not Jaskier Jr. But you still need a name, if you want to stick around. It will also make composing a song about you easier, you need something that sounds heroic, like adventure and bravery – oh, you know what! Forget what I said before, you are far too quiet to be similar to me. All you ever do is growl and brood silently. In fact, I’d say you have about the same vocabulary as the guy I used to travel with. And oh, the irony! I was actually the reason why he became known as the White Wolf. So what do you think about the name Geralt?”

The wolf started to bark and jumped at Jaskier. The bard gasped dramatically.

“You wound me! Such a strong reaction, whereas my humble name only got silence?” He grinned as he stood up. “Well then, Geralt, may you be a better companion than your namesake. And I hope that you don’t swear as much as he does.”

This earned him a single bark.

“Don’t you badmouth me!,” he teased and petted the wolf's head.

They continued walking. Geralt seemed slightly more energetic than before. For some reason, he would look up at Jaskier more often and one might mistake his expression for a smile, had he been human. And he actually looked somewhat interested, as Jaskier rambled about everything and anything that came to mind to fill the silence, just as he had always done with the original Geralt.

“So I assume, you’ll want to know a bit about the man whose name you are now wearing?”

The wolf wagged his tail at that. Jaskier took that as invitation to take his lute out of her case while walking, an art he had perfected over the years, as Geralt would not slow Roach in consideration.

He started strumming a few notes. They were the beginning to a song, everyone recognized in every tavern from Lyria to Novigrad, and that had helped the witcher to a lot of coin.

The wolf made a noise at the back of his throat and shook his head. Jaskier took it as a sign that the song was not very appreciated. To be honest, he had played it so many times that by now he almost yearned to play something, anything else. But the patrons at the taverns practically refused to pay him, unless he sang “that one song, you know, the one about the witcher”. So he smoothly transitioned into another set of chords.

“This one is a real treat. You are the first one to ever hear it. And differently from my other songs, which may or may not be slightly embellished for dramatic effect, it tells nothing but the truth about the great Geralt of Rivia. It is not completely finished yet though, so please hold back your criticism. I composed it in a spur of the moment and didn’t have time yet to polish it off.  
I just thought it would be only fitting. I used to sing a lot of songs about him, some of my best work, if I do say so myself. We met while I was performing, so I thought we would come full circle with me marking the…end of our acquaintance with a song as well. Also he said he hated my singing, so I thought it would piss him off, if I used him as more inspiration after he send me away. Behold: ‘The song of the angry, very mean onion man’… It’s a working title.”

He strummed the strings harder and started belting out a tune that would have been fitting for a tavern full of extremely drunk people.

“Ohhhhhh  
He smells like an onion, he’s dirty as shit!  
He has a small brain, and a really small wit,  
Constantly soaked in the blood of a beast.  
Has terrible manners, starts fights at a feast.  
He can’t form a sentence, you’re down on your luck  
The one thing he’ll prob’ly say are hmmmm and fuck!  
Oooooh  
Go lock up your horses, don’t worry ‘bout your daughter,  
Though please, oh please someone give him bathwateeeeeer!”

He was interrupted by Geralt’s gruff barking and growling. Jaskier stopped moving. His fingers stilled and the strings made a dissonant sound.

“What, you don’t like that melody either? I made it especially catchy, so that people would remember it quickly. Well,I wouldn’t actually let anyone else hear the song. Wouldn’t want to ruin the reputation for the witcher I created. Of course, that’s the only reason, why I wouldn’t play it in front of others…”

His voice trailed off, contrary to the growling, which didn’t stop.

“So it’s that you don’t like that I’m bashing your namesake? Well, you were the one who insisted on being called by that name and it’s not my fault that he has the emotional maturity of a spoiled carp - Can fish spoil? - Anyways, my point is, that everything in that song was true. Well, mostly true, I wouldn’t really know about his wit.”

He resumed his song, but was stopped when the growling became louder.

“Honestly, what is it with everyone always complaining about me? Alright, I get it, it’s a dumb song, I know. I hate it too, it’s stupid. But I can’t very well let out my feelings any other way. You are literally the first creature who has actually listened to me since he left. And you’re a wolf for fuck’s sake! And even you complain about me. Fine, if it’s so horrible, having to bear with me, then leave! I know, you are just an animal and don’t understand a thing I’m saying, but I swear, I am done with having people walk over me all the time and telling me that I’m shit. So either you suck it up and stop growling at me or go.”

The words came out harsher than he intended, although the effect was slightly diminished by his voice cracking. The wolf stared at him with wide eyes. The growling stopped. _Please don’t go. Please don’t actually leave me, not you too!_

There was a tense moment, in which Jaskier held Geralt’s eye, before the wolf lowered his head and whined quietly. Jaskier let out a shaky breath.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to yell at you. Look at me, doing the same thing he did.”

The wolf looked back up and took a hesitant step forwards. Jaskier extended his hand and Geralt met him halfway with his snout.

“So, I guess, we’re good?” Geralt gave his hand a quick lick. Jaskier smiled. “Alright then, onwards!”

He put the lute back in the case. For once he had lost all interest in playing and continued on their way.

The sun was already high in the sky when Jaskier noticed Geralt getting slower. He looked at him more closely and realized that the wolf was walking with a barely noticeable limp. The longer he watched, the more it became obvious that Geralt favoured the shoulder he had injured. Of course he did, how could Jaskier have forgotten about him getting shot just yesterday!

Jaskier slowed to a stop. The wolf only gave him a side eye and went onwards stoically, his eyes stubbornly fixed on his way. Did he not want Jaskier to know that he was in pain?  
He really was more like the real Geralt than he initially thought.

Jaskier let out an exaggerated and obviously fake groan.

“Oh, my legs really start to hurt from all this walking. And would you look at the time, it’s getting time for lunch.”

It was a good thing that being a bard didn’t require him to act very often. As talented he was with his lute and as much as he liked putting on a show for his audience, he was well aware that he was a lousy actor. His performance didn’t even seem to convince the wolf, but at least it captured his attention. He looked back over his shoulder at Jaskier, who had sat himself down on the ground and continued to stretch his legs far more than necessary.

The wolf came back and let himself fall to the ground as well and immediately laid his head on his front paws. So he was more tired than he had led on after all.

Jaskier hid a smile by turning away and digging through the bag he had taken from the bandits after having assured the wolf that he would keep the knife. He fished out a bit of dried meat and held up a piece for Geralt to take, who ate out of his hand, careful like yesterday. After eating, the wolf made to get up again, but Jaskier scooted over to him and put a hand on his back to stop him.

“Geralt, I just decided that if you are to travel with a bard and will have your praises sung, you have to look the part. Right now you look like you freshly crawled through the woods. Which I guess is accurate, but still. Let me fix that.”

He ran his fingers through the fur, working on knots in it and picking out leaves and small sticks that somehow had gotten stuck in there. He saw how the wolf rested his head with closed eyes. Jaskier’s ministrations appeared to do the job of relaxing his friend.

He took the opportunity to subtly take a look at the wound. This morning it had looked to have healed nicely, but Geralt must have gotten caught in a branch or something; the wound had torn up again. At least it wasn’t bleeding anymore and there was a new crust over it already. Still, Jaskier decided to stretch their break, so that it might close even further and to give his friend some rest. While cleaning his pelt and petting him, he started talking again, as he was prone to do.

“So, I never did get to tell really you about the Geralt I used to travel with before you. The song didn’t exactly do him justice.”

The ears flickering towards him were the only indication that the wolf was in fact listening to him, as his eyes were still shut.

“We had the most wonderful adventures. There was this one time, that we saved a princess from a tower. She had the most beautiful hair. And that other time Geralt fought a mighty dragon. He had been cornered and had almost lost the fight, when he threw his sword and slew the dragon! The town sung his praises for weeks to come.”

The wolf opened his eyes a bit and gave him _the Look_. It was the same look Geralt had given him the first time they met, when he told him those three fateful words that made him want to go out and explore the world _They don’t exist_. Jaskier rolled his eyes.

“Alright, alright. It didn’t really happen like that, but a bard is allowed to twist a few minor details.”

_The Look_ didn’t disappear.

“Fine, that is not how it happened at all. There was no princess in a tower. And Geralt never slew a dragon. He actually kind of befriended one, I suppose?  
I was asleep for most of it, but when I caught up with him, he had a deep talk with him, so I guess they must have bonded somehow. I didn’t get the chance to ask him for the details. Didn’t ask the others either.  
For once I had more important things to think about than my next song. Although I’m sure it would have been a good one. But I don’t think he would appreciate me singing about it now and to be honest, if I found a Djinn again, I would wish to forget that day on the mountain ever happened. It had been the last time I spoke to Geralt…  
That makes it sound so long ago, but it really wasn’t. It was just a few months back.

“We never spent the winter together anyways, he always left for Kaer Morhen- that’s where the witchers live- and I always went wherever. So it’s not like we never spend any time apart. There were even years that we didn’t see each other at all.  
But recently, we would always meet each other again in spring. Granted, that was mostly due to me asking around if anyone knew where Geralt of Rivia had gone to, but still. So this spring I started asking around again and then when I heard that he was actually in the same town as me, I realized that he wouldn’t want to regroup. Not this year. Probably not ever again.

“So like the coward that I am, I left town and made my way up here. One town over was not really that much space, but hopefully it will be enough that I don’t accidentally run into him. Or here in the woods. He hangs out in woods a lot, comes with the job.”

Geralt stayed silent. Maybe he had even fallen asleep, but now that Jaskier started talking, he couldn’t stop. Who knew when he would find the courage to speak of the witcher again?

“I think you would like him. For one, he doesn’t talk nearly as much as me. You two could sit and brood in silence for hours.  
Although he does talk a lot to his horse. Who knows, maybe he would suddenly become very talkative with you. I can only assume that he talked to the dragon as well. He didn’t fight him, that’s for sure. He fought _with_ him. And with his…love. They were protecting the dragon’s child.

“I wonder if Geralt has found his own child of surprise by now.  
I have met her, you know. I sang for princess Cirilla at a ball and later I comforted her after her parents died. I think she really needed someone to talk to. I’m not sure if I was the one she needed, but I was the next best thing. The only one who was there.  
She is really nice, smart for her age. I think she would do Geralt good. I wasn’t the right person to talk to him either, apparently. I think she might be.  
But last time I saw Geralt he said that I was responsible for all the shit happening to him, including being bound to her.  
Now I don’t know about the rest… it is possible that I did cause some problems. I never meant to though. I thought we were having a good time together, having adventures. I thought, he liked… Anyways, of all the bad things I was responsible for, I refuse to believe that Ciri is one of them. She might just be the one good thing in Geralt’s life, if he would just stop pushing everyone away. I get that he didn’t want her and I can understand that he wants to protect her by keeping away from her, but damn it, can’t he see that he just hurts her?”

His vision became blurry with his last words. He wiped at the tears angrily.

“It is unfair to treat people that way, it’s just so _unfair_. I know he doesn’t want that but can’t he see that she needs him?”

He sniffed and lifted his hands to hide his face in them. He was stopped by the wolf who laid a paw on his forearm and snuggled his head against his cheek, wetting his fur with Jaskier’s tears. He threw his arms around the wolf in a tight hug and buried his face in Geralt’s neck.

“ _I_ really needed him,” he whispered, his voice muffled by the fur.

They sat like this for a while. Finally, he started laughing weakly. A broken sound that spoke of no joy but gratitude.

“Thank you,” he said, as voice as sincere only a few people had ever heard of him.

The wolf licked his face, as if to wipe of the last of the tear tracks.

“Now, you have to promise me that you don’t go and tell all your friends about that. I can’t have that ruin my image.”

The wolf shook his head and pushed his forehead against Jaskier’s chest. He smiled feebly.

“I knew I could always count on you.”

He felt the wolf wince against him and sat back. Maybe he had accidentally pressed on his shoulder. In his woe he had completely forgotten about the wound.  
He looked him over quickly, but he seemed to be fine.

He hesitated, before reaching for his lute once again.

“I know that I talked far too much about Geralt, especially now that I should be working on a song about you, but I have one other song about him. I… I didn’t really want anyone to hear it, but I guess I already overshared with you. And don’t worry, this song is infinitely better than the last one.”

His fingers hovered over the strings for a second, before they settled. He plucked the first note. The wolf’s ears perked up and he tilted his head as if concentrating.

Quietly, Jaskier began to sing, his voice still shaky and raspy from the crying, but it carried much more weight to it than when singing his other songs.  
He kept his eyes fixed on his fingers, plucking the strings. Although he had no human witnesses to his song, it still felt too personal and just not right to look at someone listening to it. Not when it wasn’t the one person the song was meant for.

“The fairer sex, they often call it…”

The wolf’s golden eyes widened impossibly and he stood unbelievably still throughout the performance until Jaskier’s voice cracked at “I’m weak, my love”. Out of the corner of his eyes he saw Geralt flinch back.

They sat in silence after the last note rung out.

After a while Jaskier cleared his throat awkwardly. He had no intention of playing again, but still he kept the lute in his arms, clutching it as though it was a shield protecting him from the heartache.

“So, that was that. By the looks of it, you appreciate my sad songs more than my other singing. I’ll remember that. Wouldn’t want to bore my lovely audience.”

The joke fell flat even in his own ears. He coughed again and finally put his lute back in the case. He stood up and brushed imaginary leafs off his trousers until he had composed himself enough to look at Geralt again.

“Are you ready to move on?”

He certainly wasn’t. By the looks of it, it would take a long time, until he had really moved on.

He shouldered his instrument and the bag and continued on his way through the forest.

Geralt remained unmoving for a few more heartbeats, before trailing after the bard. He caught up to him quickly and pressed his head against Jaskier’s hand, making sure to always touch him.  
Immediately Jaskier clung to him, as if he gave him safety, as if he would not be feeling alone again, as long as Geralt would stay by his side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The talented [CatsAreMyWorld](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CatsAreMyWorld) has written a melody for the song! It is absolutely amazing! Please listen to it: [The Song Of The Angry, Very Mean Onion Man](https://musescore.com/catsaremyworld111222/the-song-of-the-angry-very-mean-onion-man/s/q5APSU) There is also a version with vocals instead of the clarinet:   
> [The Song Of The Angry, Very Mean Onion Man with vocals](https://musescore.com/user/32170247/scores/6350629/s/Q7UUJ4) Please show CatsAreMyWorld some love, they are wonderful!
> 
> So apparently "wit" used to be another word for penis in Shakesperean English. That's what I had in mind when writing that song.  
> Also I just wanted to say that I absolutely love "toss a coin to your witcher", I just figured that after playing it so many times Jaskier might get a bit tired of it.


	4. Chapter 4

“I have to ask you a question and please, answer honestly. I promise I won’t get mad,” Jaskier said, which earned him a curious look from his companion. “Do you have any idea, where you’re leading me?” 

After coming across the same group of trees for the third time, they had decided unanimously that Geralt would officially take charge. It had all gone well. That is until they passed the same trees for the fourth time now.

The wolf lowered his head and made a whining sound. Jaskier let out a hearty laugh.

“Oh no, you don’t get to act all sheepish now, mister I-am-an-alpha-wolf-my-instincts-can-guide-us. Do you know what that means?”

Geralt raised his head again and tilted it at an inappropriately cheerful Jaskier. He barked once.

“Yeah, fine, you have a point, it _does_ mean that we are hopelessly lost and will probably perish in this forest. But it also means that you have to take back your complaining about my direction-skills!”

The wolf rolled his eyes, or as close to that as wolves could get and decidedly ignored Jaskier’s rambling.

They marched on for a while. Of course they still didn’t have the slightest idea where they were and after days of walking, Jaskier regretted going into these woods in the first place. They had seemed far smaller from where he entered them than they actually were. But at least it seemed like they had left that damned group of trees behind them for good. They likely wouldn’t be able to find them again now, not even on purpose.

Jaskier decided to take that as a good sign. His cheery mood only increased when Geralt suddenly stopped next to him and turned his ears forwards. His gaze was fixed on something ahead of them.

“What is it? Have you seen a rabbit or something else we could eat? It really is time that you brought us some food for once, now that your shoulder is good. In all the time we have travelled together, I have not seen you hunt at all. You have really grown domestic, haven’t you?”

The wolf made a sharp sound in the back of his throat. It was not threatening, but the intent was clear. He needed Jaskier to be quiet and stay back as he moved forward, carefully placing his paws in a way that wouldn’t snap any twigs, revealing the predator that he was. Jaskier of course, ignored the obvious command and followed his friend, obnoxiously loud as always.

“What have you seen there? Is it _really_ food or are you just messing with me?”

He pushed a branch aside and finally saw what the wolf must have smelled from a distance.  
There on the ground in front of him sat a man. A real human man! They were saved! Jaskier made a small sound of happiness and made to stride over to the man, all of his confidence and charisma returning immediately. He opened his mouth to greet the man, when Geralt stepped in his way and fixed him with a stare. Jaskier moved around him, only to have his way blocked again.

“What is it now? This man could help us get out of here. Look at him, his clothes are clean, he doesn’t have a beard and his hair doesn’t look like it hadn’t been washed in a week. He obviously just got here, which means, he can tell us how to get out.”

Geralt seemed utterly unimpressed by his logic and remained stoically in his path. When Jaskier stepped around him again, he was hindered by a tugging on his sleeve. Geralt had grabbed it and was trying to pull him away from the man who by now had noticed and was staring at them.

“Let go! You have already ruined my doublet with your blood, no reason to rip a perfectly good shirt as well. How will I look in front of this gentleman! You are just jealous, because you are just as bad at directions as me and he could actually help us.”

He gently but decidedly pushed away the wolf’s face, more or less effectively freeing himself from his grip. However, his freedom was short lived. His sleeve was immediately snatched back by the wolf. Jaskier ignored him and waved his free arm at the man.

“Hello there, fellow traveller!”

The man rose up from where he was sitting on the ground without breaking eye contact and slowly walked towards them. Jaskier gave him a charming smile, which was slightly overshadowed by Geralt’s rumbling growls. With an exasperated sigh, Jaskier fully turned to him, putting his free hand on his hip.

“Honestly Geralt, do you have no manners? I’m trying to get us help and you-“

He was distracted by Geralt finally letting go of his sleeve, to stand before him again.

“I am terribly sorry. He usually is better behaved than this.”

He looked up from Geralt and his face turned from a scolding expression to completely blank.  
The man, whose features had been rather pleasant to look at, lost any semblance to a human being. His face became longer and the flesh disappeared until there was only an animalistic skull left. To both sides on the head spread two large antlers. The flesh on the body fell off as well, revealing wooden limps. The thing, whatever it was, grew, doubling in size and stretching until its proportions were completely off.  
It moved closer and a creaking sound reached Jaskier’s ears. It was almost like bark breaking, like a tree being ripped out with its roots by a storm.

Geralt’s bark pulled Jaskier out of his shock. With a muttered curse he spun on his heels and ran. There was no way him and Geralt would stick around to see what other horrors this creature would reveal.

He slowed down a bit, when he heard no footsteps following him. He leant against a tree and tried to catch his breath, chest heaving.

“I think we lost it. Remind me to never ignore you when you tell me that a person is creepy. I will never question your judgment ever again.”

He looked to his side and found it empty. The wolf was not there. Jaskier let out another curse as he heard barking and a smashing sound from the direction he had just run from.

“Oh I can’t believe I’m doing this. One of these days, my heroism is going to get me killed.”

He went back, hesitantly looking from behind a tree at the scene that played out before him. His hand met his forehead.

“Forget everything I just said. Your judgement is terrible,” he muttered to himself, as the wolf charged at the tree-deer-skull-creature and tried to bite its bark.

Jaskier winced when the creature lifted an arm and swung towards the wolf. He barely managed to dodge the attack, but was immediately back to biting and scratching at it again. Had his wound not healed completely by now, he would not have been able to last as long as he had and still, the attacks on the creature were coming. Except they didn’t seem to do any damage at all.

The swings of the creature came harder now. Geralt was forced to retreat, but still kept trying to make an attack on his own. He feinted right and jumped left, only to be hit square across the back by a wooden arm, throwing him on the ground with a loud thud. The wolf yelped and shook himself, as if to clear his head from the impact. It was obvious, that he wasn’t going to win this fight.

But, as Jaskier realized with horror, he was not going to back out of this fight either. The bard made a whistling sound. Apart from an ear twitching back to him, the wolf gave no indication that he had heard him.

“Psst, Geralt, stop it, come back here!,” he hissed.

The wolf ignored him. Jaskier took a shaky breath and stepped out of the protective shadow of the tree he had been hiding behind.

“Geralt, come back, right now! It’s going to kill you, if you keep fighting!”

He got far closer to the fight than he was comfortable with. He just opened his mouth to call for Geralt again, when he saw the creature striking a wooden claw in his direction. He cried out and held his arms protectively in front of his face, stumbling backwards, as if that would get him out of reach.

Suddenly all air was pushed out of his lungs, as Geralt lunged at him and pressed him to the ground. The creature missed him by a hair’s breadth. Geralt got of him and stood in front of him protectively.

But only for a heartbeat, before he tensed and ran at the creature again. Jaskier cried out for him, to stop, to get away with him to safety, that he didn’t have to fight anymore! None of that reached his ears. The wolf was too focussed on his task. He had almost made it to the monster, when it moved again.

For a moment, Jaskier thought it would attack, kill his friend with a hit too fast to swerve, but instead, the thing just lifted its wooden arms and threw his head back.  
It made a sound that shook Jaskier to the core. He tried to cover his ears with his hands but to no avail. It sounded like an echo of a roar, amplified by cavern walls until it became unbearable, like splintering wood, like an otherworldly voice that was as deep as a willow’s roots and as old as the forest. It was like a language old forgotten and still its message was clear as day: _Kill!_

Then the sound stopped, leaving only a ringing in Jaskier’s ears. Had Geralt used the distraction to pounce on the creature? Had it actually worked?  
No, he was still standing where he was when the creature had started singing its song of death.

A tremble overcame the wolf, so strong that even Jaskier from his position could see it. The wolf threw his head from side to side as if trying to shake off unwanted thoughts. He took one step closer to the creature that was just staring at him, waiting.  
Geralt halted in his tracks. He lifted one front leg, let it hover in the air and set it back down where it had been before. It looked like he was fighting against something, an unseen force from the inside.

Jaskier lifted himself up, hesitantly whispering his friend’s name, not daring to get closer, lest he got pulled under whatever spell the creature had put on Geralt as well.

The wolf turned to look at him sharply. Relief washed over Jaskier. Geralt reacted to him, so he could still hear him. They could still get to safety and – _oh_.

Something was off. There was something Jaskier couldn’t place in the way the wolf looked at him. He stalked closer, head low to the ground, his growl deeper than Jaskier had heard before. He was getting closer to his prey.

“Geralt?” Jaskier took a step back, uncertainty and fear unmistakably resonating in his voice.

Geralt’s head twitched again and he hesitated. But then the haunting song of the creature rang through the air again, filling Jaskier with cold dread that gipped at his heart. With the certainty that he would die today.

Geralt picked up his pace. Panic surged through Jaskier. He stumbled over rocks as he did his words, his voice sounding hoarse.

“Geralt, it’s me, I’m your friend. Remember? I sung for you and you protect me, it’s what you do!”

He still got closer, pulling back his chaps, revealing teeth as sharp as knives.

 _The knife!_ Ice filled his heart. _Don’t make me do this, please!_  
Slowly he pulled out the weapon and held it in front of him with shaking hands.

“Snap out of it! Don’t come any closer, I’m warning you!”

But he did. Jaskier saw him getting ready to jump. And freeze in his position. Yellow eyes stared at blue ones, but they looked wrong, cold.  
For a second Jaskier thought he say fear to match his own in those eyes.

It would only take one bite of the wolf to kill him. It would only take one precise stab to kill the wolf. Still the wolf hesitated. It was the perfect opportunity for Jaskier to use the knife. He would likely not get a second chance.

The eyes kept staring at him. Yellow and blue. Jaskier squeezed his eyes shut. His grip on the knife got tighter. And still the wolf stood frozen, ready to jump in every way except for in his mind.

Like through a fog sounded the cry of the forest creature. He heard the wolf growl again, he would not hesitate any longer. Jaskier was about to miss his chance. The knife was cold and heavy in his hand. Until it wasn’t.

He sheathed it without thinking, turned on his heels and ran as fast as he could. Behind him, he heard the frustrated snarl of a wolf who had jumped his prey, just to find it already gone. Maybe the hit he had received from the creature would slow him down enough for Jaskier to escape.

Jaskier couldn’t turn around. Couldn’t see his friend who was not his friend any longer but a mindless creature destined to kill, charge him. Gain on him. He just couldn’t watch it. Instead he felt it.

The push of the wolf’s heavy paws on his back was enough to send him tumbling to the ground. He barely managed to catch his fall with his hand and turn on his back.  
He felt his lute case break open from the impact and skid across the forest floor. For one irrational moment he was glad that he had not fallen on the instrument. It was too beautiful, carried too many precious memories to be painted with his blood.

Hot breath met his face as the wolf stood over him, holding him down with his paws in a cruel parody of just moments before, when he had stood in the very same position to save Jaskier’s life. Saliva fell from his fangs onto Jaskier.

“Geralt, please…”

But even across the distance, the call of the forest creature still echoed in his mind. Yellow on Blue. Jaskier tried to shuffle backwards, get out from under the wolf somehow. Rationally, he knew that he would not make it. He had had his chance to defend himself and he had thrown it away.

It was almost poetic, being killed by a white wolf, after having dedicated his life to one.

The growling grew closer to his face. Yellow on Blue. He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t look at those eyes, not when they were so full of ice. He shut his eyes as tightly as he could. With his hands he reached backwards, hoping against hope that the would grab something that would help him, knowing that he wouldn’t use it. Not against his friend that was still somewhere in there. The knife burned against his hip, where he carried it. He wouldn’t do it. Still he reached through the floor. Paws on his leg. There must be something! Growling in his ears. He couldn’t die today! Teeth that were ready to rip out this throat and growling, always the growling, filling his ears and making it impossible to breath, the growling wouldn’t stop it would be the last thing he heard, it became louder, it-

A dissonant note rang through the forest. It drowned out the growl.  
No, it didn’t. The wolf had stopped growling. Jaskier could feel his heart beating in his throat as he opened his eyes again. His fingers, blindly trying to find _something_ had found what they always did. In an awkward angle, his hand had reached his lute that had fallen out of the case.

Above him, the wolf was still close and so were his fangs. His eyes had not yet lost the cold focus of bloodlust but his head was tiled curiously as if trying to reconcile the note he had heard with the call of the forest creature. His ears were turned towards the lute.

Jaskier swallowed and moved his fingers again. It was no melody. The notes came out muffled and scratching, but they were music. They were his music on his lute.

He had played for a witcher who found acceptance though his song, he had played for his own heartbreak that stilled for the first time in weeks as the melody had carried on. And now, with these broken notes he played for his friend who he was begging to come back to him. Begging with his music through the fog that had taken over his mind.

The paws didn’t leave his chest. The wolf’s face didn’t withdraw. It came closer, closer and Jaskier played still. He played until- a wet tongue licked across his cheek.

And finally, finally the weight on his chest lifted off and he could breathe again. Slowly he sat up and looked at the wolf who had sat back on his hind legs as well. He had his head lowered, but not like before. Not for readying himself for an attack. The wolf avoided his eyes. He sat frozen as if worried he would scare Jaskier if he moved. It looked almost as if the wolf tried to seem as harmless as possible. As if he wanted to assure Jaskier that he wasn’t a threat anymore.

Jaskier leant forwards and put a hand on Geralt’s head, stroking through his soft fur. He gave a smile, that felt too weak even for himself.

“It’s ok. I’m ok. You didn’t hurt me. You are my friend.”

This made Geralt lift his head. Yellow met Blue. And at long last, the yellow eyes were _right_ again. They were unmistakably the eyes of his friend. Jaskier felt his smile brighten to a real one.

“What do you say, we leave this forest as fast as we can and get as far away from here as possible?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had actually thought about not writing this chapter at all and just skipping the obligatory monster attack.   
> But then when I was looking for a somewhat weak monster to give them a fighting chance, I found this creature called a leshen/ lechy. In the games, leshen can call on wolves to fight for them.   
> And that was kind of perfect for the story. They can also shapeshift and look terrifying. But that's about all I took from the games. I haven't played any of them, but from what I read, leshen are kind of overpowered, so I took away most of their powers. So, sorry for all the fans of the game.


	5. Chapter 5

“Oh, the gods have forsaken us.We shall perish in this forest or become savages!” 

Jaskier leant against a tree dramatically and put a hand over his heart. Geralt only yawned and trotted on. Jaskier let out a scandalized gasp.

“Excuse me! I’m suffering here and you just abandon me?”

He jogged to catch up with the wolf who turned an ear towards him in acknowledgement, which he quickly averted again, when Jaskier continued with his theatrical complaining.

He knew he was being dramatic, but honestly, he was really getting worried.  
What would he do, if they didn’t find a way out of the forest? The wolf would be fine, of course, it was his natural home after all. But Jaskier had no idea how to survive in the wilderness. For goodness’ sake, he didn’t even know what berries were poisonous! Travelling with Geralt had not prepared him for this. The witcher would always provide food, when they were stuck travelling without an inn in sight. And he would protect him from the monsters. Oh shit, the monsters! He had only met one of them and had barely made it out of that situation with his life. He wouldn’t stand a chance, should he encounter another one. Oh sweet Melitele, he really would die here, he would-

Jaskier’s spiralling thoughts were interrupted by a sudden bark. Geralt was wagging his tail, more excited than Jaskier had seen him before. And then he saw why.

“We’re saved!”

Not far ahead, he could see the trees getting thinner, revealing the edge of the forest. He laughed and hugged the wolf, who kept yapping enthusiastically, before they both sprinted off, all blisters and stones in shoes forgotten, eager to get out of the forest at long last.

When the trees parted, Jaskier felt like it was the first time in days that he could breathe freely. He hadn’t realized how constricting it had been, being surrounded by trees on all sides. Standing in an open field decked with flowers felt incredible. He laughed and spun around, picked a flower and put it in his hair.

When he stopped, he grinned at Geralt, who had not taken his eyes off him. As far as it was possible for him, he looked like he had found something, he had thought lost.  
Or maybe that was just Jaskier’s poetic imagination coming to new life at the sight of the flowers around him.

Geralt came up to him and pressed his forehead against Jaskier’s leg. The bard sat down and stoked his head. Then he bent down and plucked another flower to put it behind Geralt’s ear. He had to admit that the wolf looked much tamer with the cornflower on his head.

“There, now we match.”

The wolf who looks like he was debating whether he should shake the flower off and give Jaskier an accusatory look, seemed to decide against it and licked Jaskier’s cheek instead.

By the time they had made it to the end of the field and saw the first houses of a town, Geralt had a full flower-crown on his head. Jaskier was back to singing songs, far less gloomy ones than he had sung the last couple of days.  
The last note of his song rang out and he came to a halt. Geralt, who had run a bit ahead, looked back at him quizzically.  
Jaskier rubbed his neck.

“So, Geralt, I…thank you. For coming with me. I don’t think, I would have made it through there on my own. Well, I mean, I obviously would not have even survived the first night we met. So thank you.”

Geralt cocked his head to his side and nodded his head towards the houses. Jaskier hesitated.

“You don’t…Geralt, you’re a wolf. As much as I like you, you are not domestic. You don’t want to come with me to the town.”

Geralt growled, as if the very idea of parting ways was insulting to him. Jaskier furrowed his brow.

“You don’t mean that. Have you ever been to a town? The folks there would run you off as soon as they saw you! I can’t do that to you.”

The wolf came closer. Jaskier wasn’t sure what he was doing until it was too late. The jump came completely unexpected, but instead of tackling Jaskier as he had done before, Geralt grabbed the strap of the bard’s lute, pulled it off his shoulder in one swift motion and ran a few feet away.

Jaskier let out a startled shout. Holding his beloved lute hostage! Had it been anyone else, Jaskier would have been truly mad, but seeing his wolf-friend try to blackmail him into letting him stay, made him smile despite himself.

Just for the fun of it, he playfully chased after Geralt, trying to take his lute back from him. But Geralt sprung back every time. How he did it, with the instrument dragging with him was beyond Jaskier. He just couldn’t catch the wolf. He jumped at Geralt again, his fingers almost grazing his lute, but again it was dragged away. He noticed, that although Geralt was holding on fast, he was careful not to damage the instrument or chew through the strap. Jaskier lay panting in the grass and rolled on his back.

“Fine, you win. You have definitely shown that no human can outwit and catch you, oh great white wolf. You can come with me.”

Geralt’s face appeared above him and gave a happy bark.

“Yeah, yeah, no need to rub it in. I know that you’re great,” Jaskier said smiling and adjusted the flower crown that had slipped of one of Geralt’s ears.

The wolf pressed his face to the bard’s hand, before letting him stand up.

“Alright then. So we will stick together. But first, I will go down there and see for myself if it is safe for you.”

The wolf flattened his ears.

“Don’t look at me like that. It’s for your own safety. I promise, I’ll come back for you.”

He petted his head one last time, before shouldering his lute and taking off. Geralt didn’t take his eyes off him, until he disappeared out of sight.

Jaskier arrived at the inn and immediately felt at home. As a travelling bard, it had been a long time, since he had stayed at the same place for longer than a few months. And that was only because travelling during the winter wasn’t very comfortable.  
So standing in an inn, hearing the constant patter and smelling spilt ale felt like home. Except he usually looked more presentable than he did at this moment, with a slightly ripped and very dirty shirt, small scratches on his face and probably some leaves sticking out of his hair.

He put on a charming smile anyway and went up to the innkeeper, who just came back from kicking out two rascals who thought it clever to start a brawl. The innkeeper mustered him from top to bottom.

Before Jaskier could say anything, he declared “You look like you fell in a pile of shit, mate.”

Jaskier laughed wholeheartedly. What a pleasant thing to hear the first human say to him, that he spoke to in days.

“Thank you very much, I think that description is still flattering, considering.”

The man hmmpfed and a smile appeared under his beard that crinkled around the eyes.

“So how can I help ye, lad?,” he asked. “You need a bath, no question.”

Jaskier couldn’t agree more. He was really close to accepting the offer of a nice steamy bath on the spot, but then it would take an eternity for him to get out of the water again and ask what he really came here for to ask.

“Well, I do admit that sounds absolutely lovely.”

“But?”

“But, you see, I have a…a dog. Big dog but as mild as a dove. I didn’t bring him with me yet, because I didn’t know if dogs were allowed in here, so-“

“Listen, lad, if he doesn’t bite anyone’s arse, he can stay in here. If he does, he has to go and so do you. Simple as that. Or we ‘ave a kennel outside by the stables, if ye don’t want to risk getting kicked out.”

A smile stretched Jaskier’s face. “He won’t be any trouble.” Hopefully. “I’ll get him right away. And thank you, oh so very much.”

The innkeeper huffed again and turned away before Jaskier could say goodbye. It seemed like destiny was finally making up for the last few shitty days. Months, really. Jaskier went outside, with a bounce in his step. And hesitated. Maybe he should check out the kennel, just to be sure Geralt would even fit in there, should the crowded room be too much for him after all.

He made it around the inn and to the stables. Now where was the kennel? He slowly passed the stables, still not seeing what the innkeeper had described, when a nibble on his shoulder caught him off-guard. He turned around laughing.

“Sorry, I don’t have any apples with me. You’re going to have to ask your own master.”

He lifted his hand to stroke the horse’s face. A face with a thin white stripe. His hand froze mid-air, transfixed.

“Roach?” The horse neighed and pushed its nose towards his hand. He stepped back. “Oh, no, I am not doing this!”

Without another look at the horse, he spun around and ran. Away from the inn, away from this whole damn town! He would go get Geralt – the _nice_ one- and go right back into the damned forest if he had to. Although with his luck, that would just be where the witcher was currently monster-hunting.

The wolf had wagged his tail, and barked excitedly, jumping up at Jaskier, when he had seen him coming back from town.  
Now, he was laying his head on his front paws and giving the occasional yawn as Jaskier listed all the reasons why they definitely could not go into town. He ignored him mostly. That is, until Jaskier spread his arms and looked to the skies.

“Thank you, destiny, for absolutely nothing, you bastard!”

Geralt lifted his head at this and looked at Jaskier questioningly.

“Oh, so now you are listening. Well, it’s true though, destiny’s a bitch. No offence.”

The wolf huffed. Jaskier continued his rant. “But honestly! Here? Of all the places, he could have gone, why on earth had it to be here? I mean, the whole reason why I went in this direction is because I thought this is the opposite of where he would go!”

Geralt gave him a look of utter confusion.

“Yes, of course I’m sure it’s him. Granted, I didn’t see him, but that doesn’t have to mean anything. I saw his horse and I would recognize Roach anywhere.”

Without any warning, the wolf sprung up and fixed Jaskier with a piercing stare.

“Yes, thank you, I totally agree. We should just leave this place, try our luck at another town with no witchers and no- “

Geralt interrupted him with a frantic bark and prodded his chest with his paw. Jaskier paused.

“Well, I guess if you put it that way… You’re right, I shouldn’t let him push me around. If he doesn’t want to see me, then maybe he should be the one who has to has to go, this time! He will probably leave soon anyways.”

He stood with purpose and gestured for Geralt to follow him, completely needlessly, as the wolf had already moved ahead.

When they got to the inn, Jaskier had to physically restrain the wolf from running off towards the stables. Damn it, he had known, this was a bad idea. Of course the wolf would go after the first scent of anything food-like. And apparently that included horses.  
Jaskier tightened his grip around the wolf’s neck, as he tried to hold him back without ripping out his fur.

“Geralt, stop it!,” he hissed. “If anyone sees you like this, they’re not even going to let us go in. They will drive us off immediately, most likely with stones and pitchforks!”

The wolf stilled at that. Jaskier breathed a sigh of relief.

“Ok, so do you promise to behave? Really, I need you to be on your best behaviour otherwise we’ll have to spend the night outside again and we don’t want that, alright?”

Geralt compliantly let Jaskier drag him away, but his head kept turning and his ears were constantly pitched towards where the horses stood.

They entered the room and were immediately greeted by obnoxious laughing and the sound of loud arguments. Jaskier pushed through the crowd and Geralt made sure to keep at his heel.

The innkeeper recognized the bard immediately. He took one look at Geralt and let out a booming laugh.

“I have to say, as worried as ye were, I thought you were goin’ to bring me a feral beast, not a tame puppy flowers on ‘is head.”

Jaskier smiled as all tension left his body. He talked with the innkeeper about a room and a hot bath and settled on a price.

While the bath was being prepared, Jaskier ordered a hearty meal for himself and asked the innkeeper for some leftovers for his “dog”. They sat at a table, eager for a warm meal.  
While they ate, Jaskier chatted up a waiter that welcomed the opportunity to slack off.

“So, Mikolaj, has anything interesting happened here in the last couple of days?,” he said, markedly casual. “When I’m not currently looking like I crawled through a forest, I am a bard in desperate need of new inspiration.”

The waiter leaned against their table with his hip.

“Well, there is a monster near-by. Killed some sheep and even injured the miller some weeks back.”

“Oh, really? That sounds scary. Is it save to stay here? Surely you had someone take care of your pest, haven’t you?”

The man shrugged. “A witcher, you mean? You’re right, we did have one of those here about a week ago. Probably been a bit longer.”

Jaskier waited, shoulders tense. He frowned, when his new acquaintance didn’t elaborate.

“When you say, you had him here a week ago, you mean, he –“

“I mean he said he’d finish off the monster, no problem. And then he left and hasn’t come back yet.”

Jaskier statled. “What? Hasn’t come back yet? He – witchers don’t take over a week to finish their contracts.” Not this one. Not when he said, he’d have it done without a problem.

Mikolaj shrugged again, disinterestedly. “I don’t know. I try to stay as far away from those witchers as possible. Maybe he saw the monster and decided it wasn’t worth the risk and just left. That’s what I would have done for sure. Anyways, you shouldn’t get your hopes up about inspiration. You wouldn’t get a song from him anyways. From what I hear, he already has a bard, quite talented at that.”

Jaskier gave a tight smile and mumbled something about not wanting to drag down his competition.  
In reality a song couldn’t be farther from his mind. He should have been relieved that he probably wasn’t going to see the witcher again, although a small part of him was disappointed. The biggest part though was concerned.  
If he had just left, thdn that was fine. That didn’t sound like the Geralt he knew, but what meant that anyways? The Geralt he thought he knew, wouldn’t have told him that it would be a blessing, to have Jaskier taken off his hands.  
He swallowed around the lump that was forming in his throat. No matter what else he had been wrong about, if there was one thing, he knew for certain, it was that Geralt wouldn’t have left Roach. She was probably the only one Geralt truly cared about. But maybe the contract just took a bit longer. It had happened before that Geralt miscalculated and had left Jaskier waiting at a tavern for days longer than anticipated. But still, a week?

Before he could ask further, the waiter was called away to bring food to another table.  
Jaskier deflated. He shouldn’t be worried about the witcher. He really shouldn’t. It wasn’t his place anymore. The wolf rested his head in Jaskier’s lap and looked up at him.

“You know what? I think we have deserved a bath now. Just you wait, I will work wonders on your fur and you will look like a wolf of legends.”

Jaskier stayed in the water, until his hands got wrinkled. It felt so good to be clean again, that he contemplated staying in the tub for the rest of the evening, but the wolf seemed to get impatient with him.  
He kept pacing the room, only occasionally stopping to prick up his ears and look at the window.

Jaskier sighed and heaved himself out of the tub. He put on some clean clothes that he had convinced the waiter from before to give him. The wonders a charming smile and good looks could do! The clothes were nothing as extravagant or colourful as his own tended to be, but at least they were not dirty and messed up. He went over to Geralt, who gave a soft whine and looked at the window again. Jaskier sighed.

“See, I told you, you wouldn’t like it in here. It’s really nothing like the wilds, is it?”

Geralt turned to him and huffed.

“Yeah, yeah I know. We can go outside for a walk tomorrow. I’m not keeping you looked up in here forever. But if we want to walk around town without scaring children, we have to make you look like your best self.” He gestured to the bath tub. “So, into the water with you.”

Geralt hesitated only for a moment before he jumped into the tub. The water splashed everywhere, wetting Jaskier’s fresh clothes.

“Oh, I should have seen this coming,” He muttered, as the wolf twisted in the tub, effectively making the water slosh even more. “Alright, alright. You, sir, need to stop that right now, or we might get kicked out after all.”

Geralt looked at him with what Jaskier could only describe as puppy dog eyes.

“Oh, stop it, you. I’m not judging. That is literally the same reaction to the bath, I had.”

He rolled up his sleeves and started massaging the water into the wolf’s pelt. Geralt closed his eyes and Jaskier could have sworn that if he were a cat, he would have purred. As it were, he just wagged his tail, lightly smacking Jaskier in the face.

After he was done, he helped lifting Geralt out of the tub without sploshing anymore water. Or rather, he tried. He might not have thought this completely through. Lifting a wet wolf that was more than half of Jaskier’s own height, turned out to be harder than anticipated.  
After several failed attempts that only served to soak Jaskier’s shirt to completion, Geralt decided that he had enough and just jumped out. Jaskier was about to complain, when Geralt shook himself, making small droplets of water rain on everything.

So it was that a snow-white wolf that looked like he could be the hero of several ballads and a bard who looked like he had just decided to take a dive with his clothes on, went back down to the pub room.

They were found rather quickly by the waiter who Jaskier had talked to before.

“You look good in my clothes.”

“Mikolaj! You look good in your clothes as well.”

Smooth, very smooth. Geralt flattened his ears. So maybe it was good that he hadn’t gone with the suggestive “I would look even better without your clothes”.

“And your dog cleans up nicely as well. Though I have to say, I did like the flower-crown from before. It was a nice touch.”

Jaskier had to agree. Too bad, the flowers had wilted by now. He would just have to make him a new one sometime. He scooted over on his bench to make some space for Mikolaj, that he promptly occupied.

“So, you seemed awfully invested in that whole witcher-business.”

Jaskier laughed nervously. “Oh, did I?”

“Yeah, so much so that I was told to tell you that if you know him and you see him again, you should give him a kick up the arse.”

“Oh, I’m planning to,” Jaskier mumbled, which earned him a laugh from Mikolaj and a gruff snort from Geralt, who sat on the floor next to Jaskier’s bench.

“So you do know him? Well in that case, Kamil –that’s the innkeeper- also said that if the witcher doesn’t come back till tomorrow morning, that horse of his gets sold off.”

“What?,” Jaskier exclaimed, unable to stop himself. “You can’t sell Roach!”

Geralt growled in agreement. Mikolaj scratched his ear nervously.

“Well, you see, the thing is, the horse has been standing in the stables for over a week now, eating and shitting and the witcher only payed for two days. Honestly, I didn’t even expect Kamil to let it stay this long. I guess he kept lowering the payment for the witcher, but now that he isn’t coming back…”

“But he will come back!”

What if he did and Roach wasn’t there? Then he’d be all alone. Granted, Jaskier knew well enough that the witcher didn’t appreciate most company, but he actually talked to Roach! He would go insane without her.

“I’ll pay for her,” he said before he had time to think about it.

“Excuse me, what?”

“I said, I’ll pay for the stable and the food and the shit-shovelling until Geralt comes back.”

Mikolaj looked at him doubtfully. “Listen, no offence, but you didn’t even have wearable clothes. I heard you haggle with Kamil for the room and that bit of money you got left, won’t cut it for the horse.”

Jaskier stood up. “We’ll see about that.”

He grabbed the lute, he had brought downstairs with him and started playing.  
After the first line Geralt joined him in the middle of the room, earning some laughs and hollers at “when the White Wolf fought”. As was expected, the whole room joined in the refrain.

“Toss a coin to your witcher oh valley of plentyyyyyyy!”

And toss a coin, they did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought the boys deserved some happiness. It's not much and we'll see about how long it lasts, but at least they are safe happy for a moment.   
> Speaking of happyness, thank you all so much for the kudos, Bookmarks and comments! They really mean a lot to me, you guys make my day :)


	6. Chapter 6

Something was wrong. If only Jaskier could figure out what it was.  
He was waking up in a comfortable, soft bed for the first time in what felt like forever. The sun was already making his way up the sky and filled the room with warm light. A pleasant wind came through the open window.  
So what was missing? 

He cuddled closer to the thing he held in his arms and buried his face in it. _Oh_.  
That’s what’s wrong. He was cuddling a pillow.  
He could have sworn, that when he went to bed, it had very decidedly _not_ been a pillow he’d been hugging.  
Granted, the wolf hadn’t seemed to be too keen on sleeping in the same bed as Jaskier, but with enough coaxing and promised treats, he had brought Geralt around and made him jump on the bed with him. He had actually looked like he enjoyed the fluffy bed. That is until Jaskier hugged him close to his chest. The look Geralt gave him spoke of immediate regret. But after mild complaining, he huffed and snuggled closer to the bard as well.

And as far as Jaskier was aware, he had held his friend the whole night through. But apparently he was wrong.  
He sat up in bed and looked around. The wolf was gone and the door was slightly ajar.

“Of course, abandoned by a white wolf again. How typical,” Jaskier groaned and dragged a hand down his face.

He would be in so much trouble, if anyone saw the huge wolf wander the streets on his own. Hopefully, Geralt had decided that living among humans wasn’t for him and made his way back to the field of flowers.

But, oh no. Of course destiny couldn’t give him a break for once. It took him a second to connect the sound he heard to what was going on. He heard the bark again, followed by panicked neighing and the stomping of hooves.

“Shit!”

He stumbled out of bed and ran to the window.  
And sure enough, just below him, Geralt was barking like mad and scratching at the stable doors.

“Oh no nononono.”

Jaskier couldn’t remember a time when he had put on his trousers as fast as now. Usually when he had to storm out of a room in the morning when facing trouble, he tended to forgo dressing. He ran out of the room and down the stairs while struggling to put on his shirt. He earned some odd looks from the stuff that was preparing breakfast. He ignored them, running outside.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

Geralt looked up at him for a second, whining, before resuming his task of scaring the horses shitless. Jaskier tried to drag him away to no avail, when the innkeeper rounded the corner, waving a broomstick.

“Get your bloody dog away from the horses! I told ya, I’d kick your arses if he caused any trouble.”

Jaskier pulled at Geralt again, not even budging him a little.

“I’m sorry. I really don’t know what’s gotten into him.”

He abandoned his task of getting Geralt away, instead trying to calm down the horses. It turned out to be a task that was just as fruitless.  
The horses didn’t stop stomping, and rolling their eyes to reveal the whites.

All except one horse.

Kamil who had made it to him and was now shooing Geralt with his broom gave a strange look.

“It’s the damned witcher’s horse. I guess it had seen enough monsters in its life to stay calm.”

“And enough white wolves,” Jaskier muttered.

Geralt barked again and wagged his tail. Roach leaned down a bit in an attempt to smell the wolf.

“She’s…she’s really not afraid of him.” The voice of the innkeeper was full of disbelief.

The wolf stood on his hind legs and reached the horse’s nose with his own snout. Jaskier smiled proudly, despite the chaos around him.

“That’s Roach for you. It’ll take a lot to scare that girl.”

“Oh, don’t yer go smiling. I stand by what I said. Your dog caused trouble. He has to leave.”

Jaskier’s smile vanished. “No, I’m sorry, I promise he won’t do it again. I mean look at him, he’s not hurting the horses. He just wants to play.”

“I don’t care. I told you yesterday and you agreed. I can’t have any more trouble. That horse is a real hell-beast as well. The past week she was as wild as anything. Just stopped with ‘er attitude yesterday. You know what, when ye go, take her wi’ you. I don’t want to deal with her anymore. And she seems to like your dog well enough.”

Geralt barked happily and ran around Jaskier, pushing at his back. Jaskier ignored him and gaped at Kamil.

“Take Roach? But she’s the witcher’s horse! He’ll need her, when he comes back.”

The innkeeper gave him a tight smile.

“It’s rare to see someone with that much faith in witchers. But trust me, laddie, he ain’t coming back. He failed his contract. He abandoned his horse. And he abandoned us. That’s just the way of things with witchers. At least we don’t-“

Jaskier cut him off. “No he didn’t.”

“What?”

“I know this witcher. He doesn’t just abandon people.”

 _Are you so sure about that?_ A cruel voice whispered in his head. _He didn’t have a problem leaving you on your own._ Jaskier ignored the voice.

“And he does not fail his contracts. Whatever it is you wanted him to kill, I’m sure, he had faced worse.”

He felt Geralt nudge his hand again. He looked down and saw the wolf stare at him, pushing his head against his side. Jaskier rested his hand on his back reassuringly.  
Before the innkeeper could open his mouth in protest, Jaskier had made his decision.

So what if Geralt didn’t want to see him? His comfort be damned! Jaskier had spent so much time building his reputation, he would not let one delayed return ruin all his hard work.

“I’ll prove it. I’ll go looking for him. I will take the horse and be back with the witcher and with evidence that he had not failed.”

He hoped he was right. But doubt gnawed on his heart. It was true. If Geralt said, he’d finish the job, he would do it. So why hadn’t he? What had gone wrong? Well, he was going to find out.

Jaskier began to notice a pattern, when he awoke again, this time in the middle of the night, without having the wolf’s warm body next to him.  
Only now he didn’t have a pillow to cuddle either. The thin blanket and bedroll he had borrowed from the witcher’s supplies did not compare to a real bed. Ah well. If Geralt didn’t want to cuddle that was his problem. Jaskier needed his beauty sleep.

He really had hoped that by reaching the town he would break the chain of walking all day, but now he was again exhausted after walking the whole day long. Sure, he supposes, he could have ridden Roach, but it felt wrong without the witcher’s permission.

He had just turned around and closed his eyes, when he heard the sound again that had woken him. It was a rustle and silent clanking. Where there bandits again, rummaging through their stuff?

He got up as quietly as he could.  
In his head his thoughts sing-sang _This is stupid, I’m going to die, this is stupid_ in a loop. Then his eyes landed on the culprit.

“Geralt, get away!”

The wolf’s ears flattened. He looked slightly guilty at being caught rummaging through the saddlebags. Honestly, Jaskier didn’t understand this wolf. Sometimes he seemed to be so much smarter than a normal animal and then there were times that he would act like a puppy that hadn’t been trained yet.  
Jaskier got down on his knees and pushed Geralts face away gently, but firmly nonetheless.

“What are you doing? We ate enough. You don’t have to loot his stuff!”

He scanned the things that laid scattered around on the floor. Potion bottles for healing, strength, one for stamina.

“What were you even doing with this?”

He started picking them up and putting them back in their correct place.  
He grabbed for the last one, but it was snatched away, before he could reach it. Geralt carried it a few feet away quickly.  
Jaskier was still too stunned to react. He stared at the wolf as he held the bottle between his paws, gnawing at the cork. Finally, he managed to open the bottle. This ripped Jaskier out of his stupor.

“Geralt, NO!”

He jumped up and dove for the bottle. He knocked it over and pushed Geralt away, before he could get the idea of lapping it off the grass. Geralt growled at him and tried to move past him, but Jaskier’s worry for his friend gave him new strength. He held him back and scowled.

“What do you think you’re doing!? Can’t you smell that those are bad for you? Those are witcher potions, they will kill anyone else. And that one was a Mutagenic potion. It would have been _really_ bad.”

The wolf halted in his struggle and cocked his head.

“Oh don’t look at me like that. Just because I’m useless in a fight, doesn’t mean I cannot be helpful. You see, Geralt always takes these Mutagenic potions before a fight. They kind of mess with his brain or something to make him stronger or give him better sight. Of course, he can handle them on his own. But then there are also other potions. For healing poisons and wounds. I don’t think Geralt noticed, but I learned where he keeps them. I thought…I thought, maybe one day, he wouldn’t be able to get them in time on his own. Or he’d be unconscious. And then I wouldn’t know how to help him, so I watched him and learned a thing or two.”

The wolf stared at him and lowered his head. One would think an animal would have better instincts than to try out random potions, but Jaskier couldn’t really fault him for being curious, he supposed. He himself had tried to drink witcher potions in the first week he had travelled with Geralt. He had been lucky to have been caught by the witcher, just as the wolf should count himself lucky to have been caught by Jaskier.

“And you know what the first thing I learned was? Don’t drink the fucking potions if you are not a witcher. So that’s a new rule: No stealing Geralt’s stuff. It might kill you. Also he’ll be pissed when he finds the potions gone. He’ll need them.”

He faltered. His eyes widened and he looked at the wolf, panic in his eyes.

“Shit, he _needs them!_ He went off to fight the monster and he didn’t have his potions with him!” he scrambled to his feet, waking up Roach who lifted her sleepy head. “We have to go, _now!_ ”

Tears stung in his eyes. He pretended they came from the wind blowing mercilessly in his face, as he spurred Roach on to gallop faster. Geralt surely wouldn’t mind that he rode her, if it was to save him. Jaskier just hoped he wouldn’t be too late.

He had left the path, the innkeeper had described to him a while ago and let the animals’ instincts guide him. Maybe the wolf, who was running next to Roach, barely keeping up with her, had taken his scent when he had rummaged through the witcher’s stuff and could lead him to him. He could only hope so, otherwise he had no way of finding out, where he had gone. Even if Jaskier had been decent at tracking, the witcher knew how not to leave any marks behind and a lot of time had passed, since he had gone off to fight the monster.

Jaskier’s thoughts were racing, but he couldn’t hold onto a single one of them. _Geralt hadn’t taken his potions. He had left Roach behind. He hadn’t taken his potions. He didn’t return. Why didn’t he return? What if he had died?_  
The last thought settled in his mind and repeated over and over in his head.

Jaskier knew he had already lost Geralt in that day on the mountains. Throughout the winter, he could push it away, pretend like it was any other winter and they would meet again in spring. Then he had avoided the witcher, not ready to face him yet. He composed insulting songs that he would never sing to anyone else, so Geralt wouldn’t be angry when they inevitably met again. But now they might never get the chance to reconcile. Now, he might lose him for good.

Without his command, Roach came to a halt. Jaskier could hear the wolf’s panting, as he sank to the ground. Clearly running next to a horse at full speed had taken its toll on him. Jaskier dismounted Roach and checked over the wolf, concerned.

“Are you alright? I’m really sorry, my friend, but I have to find Geralt. I have to know what happened to him. If he-“ He choked. He couldn’t say it out loud. It would make it to real. “I can’t let the townsfolk in their belief that he was a coward. I can’t let the memory of him abandoning them, be the last.”

The wolf looked up and whined.

“I knew you would understand.”

Jaskier stood up again and looked around. His prayers had been answered, the wolf, or maybe it was Roach, had led him to where the witcher must have gone. The hill they were standing on bore remnants of a fight. Feathers laid strewn about and dried blood splatters covered patches of grass.

So Jaskier had been right. Geralt had fought the monster.  
But he couldn’t see its corpse anywhere and he doubted that other predators or scavengers had taken care of it so thoroughly. That meant the beast was still alive.

At least, there was no witcher corpse either.

Jaskier got closer to inspect the blood. It was impossible to tell whether it was the monster’s blood or- Roach whinnied behind him. Jaskier went over to her and froze. There was a lump on the floor that was being nudged by the horse.

Like in a trance he got closer. He heard the wolf bark behind him like through a thick fog. He ignored it and reached out to what was lying on the ground. His fingers found the fabric and immediately curled around the familiar shirt. He dug through the rest of the pile. Before him were all of Geralt’s clothes and armor.

Jaskier couldn’t make sense of it. For what reason had Geralt taken them off? Or had it happened against his will? Maybe the monster had been a succubus. He stilled as his fingers brushed against metal.

“No.” His voice was but a breath.

Slowly he pulled out the medallion and stared at it. Geralt never took it off. Never. Another bark sounded behind him and out of the corner of his eyes, he could see the wolf pace around nervously. But Jaskier only had eyes for the medallion that was the witcher’s greatest possession. Subconsciously he noted Roach grew agitated as well.

His hand held the piece of metal tight enough that it bit in his flesh, but he didn’t care. How could he, when it meant… he wasn’t able to finish the thought.  
But in his heart he already knew what he couldn’t put in words. There was only one reason for Geralt to be without his medallion. He would protect it with his life.

The wolf’s barking became more insistent and he felt a shove in his back. Jaskier whirled around, ready to yell at the wolf. How could he not understand what had happened? That nothing would be alright ever again?

But his voice got lost, as he saw what the wolf had wanted to show him all along. From behind a large rock appeared a creature, bigger than Roach, with feathered wings and claws sharp as swords. It was a griffin.

Geralt stood protectively in front of Jaskier and growled. The griffin answered with a screech and jumped forward, ready to attack, with the sole purpose to kill.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope it's not too confusing when I'm talking about Geralt the witcher and Geralt the wolf. So please tell me, if you think I should distinguish between them better or differently. 
> 
> Also for those of you who are frustrated with Jaskier's obliviousness, I think if life gave him a break for once, he might be able to use his brain more. Maybe a day may come when he'll finally figure it out, but this day is not today! ;)


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: Anxiety attack  
> I'm not sure if what I'm describing here is an actual anxiety attack, but it might be. So please take this seriously nontheless, be warned and stay safe.

Jaskier threw himself to the side, barely escaping the claws of the beast that dug into the ground where he had stood mere seconds ago. Geralt had evaded the attack as well. He whirled around and bit into the feathered neck. The griffin screeched and shook the wolf off, flinging him away and sending him crashing against a rock. 

“Geralt!,” Jaskier screamed and without thinking ran over to where the wolf was struggling to regain his senses.

His breath was unexpectedly pushed out of his lungs, when the tail of the beast flung around and hit him in the stomach. He gasped and lost his footing.  
The next attack followed without pause. The griffin took advantage of his position on the ground and jumped to tackle him.

Jaskier could hear Gerald’s whine when the beast landed on the bard, holding him in place. The claws dug into his shoulders, but it made no attempt to go for the killing bite.  
Somewhere in the back of his mind, he remembered the witcher telling him that griffins liked to toy with their prey. And why wouldn’t it? Jaskier had no chance of freeing himself anyways.

Except, he did.

It was an off chance, but he fumbled with the knife strapped to his belt and jabbed out.  
The wound wasn’t deep, of course, but it was enough for the creature to howl and rear up in pain. Its blood splattered across Jaskier’s face and he scrambled to his feet to struck the griffin again, this time at its exposed belly.

A sudden gust of wind hit him and made him stumble backwards, as the griffin violently flapped its wings. It lifted from the ground, but its flight looked unsteady. It quickly landed, just out of range of either the wolf or the bard.

_It’s injured_ , Jaskier noted with sudden clarity. _It hurts it to fly._

Now that he looked closer, he saw that one of its wings was in tatters. So it was the same creature the witcher had fought with. He must have shred its wing.  
Thank the gods, Jaskier would probably be dead, had it not been for him.

Careful not to make any sudden moves that could alarm the griffin, he crept over to the wolf, who had risen unsteadily to his legs by now.  
Jaskier cursed his insistence to get here as fast as possible. It was his fault the wolf was exhausted from all that running.

“Hey, are you alright?” he said lowly. “Do you think you can make it back to town? We have to get away. You should not be attacking monsters three times your size and I only have this” He gestured with the knife.

That was a mistake.  
The piercing cry of the griffin told him that waving around a weapon might have come off as a challenge.

“Bollocks.”

It charged and Jaskier dove to the side once more, as Geralt bit and clawed at the beast.  
Apparently the griffin was done toying with them now. It hacked at the wolf with its beak, aiming at the eyes. It was a testament to Geralt’s strength that he didn’t fall into a panic and stayed calm enough to evade the attacks time and time again.  
But it was only a matter of time, till he missed an attack and would be hit with the deadly beak.

With a battle cry that could have been mistaken for a terrified squeak, but most definitely wasn’t, Jaskier took a run at the beast and jumped onto it.  
The griffin spun around, trying to grab him with its beak and pull him off of its back, but Jaskier clang to the feathered neck, holding on for dear life.

He heard Geralt’s frantic bark as the griffin took off with him, trying to shake him off mid-flight.  
He thanked all the gods that the beast wasn’t able to fly for too long with its hurt wing.

As soon as it landed, Geralt seized the creature again. While it was distracted trying to fend off the wolf, Jaskier managed to let go with the hand that was still tightly clutching the knife. He stabbed the beast in the neck. It must have looked ridiculous. The weedy bard wielding a tiny knife against a beast that could probably eat him whole.

The griffin didn’t even seem to notice his attacks, until Jaskier repeated the action and out of sheer luck found a spot that was less protected by the feathers. It let out another shriek that rang in Jaskier’s ears. It jerked around violently.

Jaskier felt his fingers slip. He lost his grip and was thrown off. He hit the ground with his back. All air left his lungs. He gasped for breath and blinked against the splotches of black that started to cloud his vision.

Through the fog in his mind he saw the beast lunge at him.  
He held his arms protectively in front of his head and curled in on himself, trying to give the vicious claws as small an area to attack as possible.

But the deadly onslaught never reached him.  
Geralt had caught the beast’s throat with his sharp teeth and dragged it to the ground. Jaskier watched the two creatures struggle with each other, before he snapped out of it and used his knife one final time.

The griffin stilled. It was suddenly eerily quiet. The only sound was Jaskier’s and Geralt’s heavy breathing.  
 _Just two minutes_ , Jaskier thought. He didn’t have the strength to think about what to do next just yet. _It’ll take just two minutes, then I’ll be fine again._  
The wolf nudged his hand and Jaskier smiled at him weakly. Geralt had a concerned look in his eyes.

“It’s ok now.” Jaskier’s voice was as shaky as his hands.

He put his knife away, before the shaking got worse and he accidently hurt himself.  
He took a deep breath in an attempt to calm himself. It didn’t work.

“I just don’t understand it,” he said quietly.

The wolf looked up at him with a titled head.

“It’s a griffin. I know, that we almost died just there, but Geralt shouldn’t have. A griffin- that’s easy for him. Not even worth mentioning. And it couldn’t even really fly anymore. How could it-“

His voice broke and a sob escaped him.  
Geralt pushed against his leg as Jaskier pressed his hands against his mouth to muffle the sobs. The griffin had still been alive. Geralt had not managed to kill it for some reason. The griffin was still alive and there was no trace of the witcher. That only left one possible conclusion.

“He’s gone.” His voice was but a whisper. “He’s really gone.”

The wolf whined. Jaskier felt like he couldn’t breathe, something restricted his chest.

“And now he isn’t even going to get a proper burial. I don’t know how witchers mourn their dead, but Geralt should have gotten _something_. He didn’t deserve to die alone. That’s why I followed him around. So he wouldn’t have to be alone.”

When they had made their way back into town, people on the street stared at him. He knew those stares too well, has heard the muffled whispers before, but never directed at him.

At least he was no longer bloodstained. He had washed the blood off by the stream he had found Roach at. Smart girl, she had run away as soon as the griffin had shown its face.

Now she was carrying one of the griffin’s severed wings. His knife had not been big and sharp enough to cut off its head, like Geralt would have done.

Jaskier pushed the thought away and ignored the whispers. He put on the scary-face he had seen the witcher use so often and found it actually helped keeping the stares to a minimum.

The wolf trotted next to him, head hung low. When they neared the inn they were kicked out of before, Kamil stormed out and ran up to them. He opened and closed his mouth a few times before finally settling on “You’re alive.”

“And the griffin is dead.”

“So I heard. The whole town has heard already. I almost didn’t believe it, when a young lad came in and said the scrawny bard had slain the beast.”

Jaskier shrugged, trying to look nonchalant., but failing miserably when the claw marks the griffin had left stung at the movement. At least they weren’t bleeding anymore and were almost unnoticeable to someone who didn’t know any better.

“That’s because I didn’t kill it. It was already dead when I came.”

The innkeeper furrowed his brows. The doubt was written all over his face.

Jaskier continued. “Like I said, Geralt wouldn’t abandon anyone.”

“But why didn’t he come back then? Witchers only care about killing and money, everyone knows that. So why hasn’t he come for his pay?”

“Why do you think?”

Jaskier pushed past him and heaved the griffin-wing off Roach. It took all his strength to hold it up to the innkeeper. Kamil stared at it wide-eyed.

Jaskier explained. “Witchers always bring back prove of their accomplishments. So that people don’t doubt their honesty.”

He couldn’t help the jab. Kamil winced.

“Ahh, yes, that’s…good. But what am I supposed to do with that thing?”

Jaskier shrugged. He never found out what people did with the monster heads Geralt brought them.

“Hang it up on the wall as a trophy.”

Kamil actually seemed to consider that. Jaskier left him and guided Roach down the street. He was stopped by Kamil calling after him.

“Listen, lad, I’m sorry for what I said about yer witcher. He’s done his job and helped the town. I can’t give you the pay he would have gotten, but you seemed close and no one else had dared to go see the monster for themselves, so… maybe you could stay another night? On the house of course.”

Jaskier hesitated. Hastily the innkeeper added “The dog and the horse can stay too, of course. Nevermind, what I said before.”

Jaskier agreed, relieved that he was allowed to spend another night in a real bed and that he wouldn’t have to worry about food.

He took Roach to the stables and detached her saddle and headgear. He stroked her mane.

“I’m sorry, girl. I’ll come for you again, tomorrow. I’ll take care of you. I’m not as good as Geralt of course, but we’ll manage.”

The horse looked utterly unimpressed. Maybe she still thought that the witcher would come back. The wolf barked at Roach, to which she gave a soft snort.

“Well, at least we know, that you two get along just fine.”

It hadn’t taken long, before the first tavern-goers disrupted his dinner and asked about the griffin.  
To his dismay, the innkeeper hadn’t told anyone the pack of lies Jaskier had told him. Well, not all of them where lies. At the core, it had all been true. Geralt _had_ fought the griffin and he hadn’t abandoned the town. He didn’t deserve the scorn and distrust people threw his way. Or to be completely ignored, the second someone else waltzed in and took his place as monster-slayer.   
And therein lied the problem. No-one had heard what Jaskier had told Kamil. No-one knew of Geralt’s bravery, the sole reason, he had come back to the town in the first place!

Instead people hoarded Jaskier, asking him about details of how he fought the monster. Most looked at him in awe. Geralt had seldom gained such looks. There even was one woman, who blatantly told Jaskier that it was a good thing, the cowardly witcher hadn’t come back, if instead the town got a hero as handsome as Jaskier.  
That was enough for him. He snapped.

“If you all just listened to me, for one moment, you would know, that I am not the hero here!”

He received some grumbling and was left alone.

For all of five minutes, before the next person walked up to him, asking about the story of how he slew the beast. He sighted, grabbed his lute and stood in the middle of the room. He hadn’t planned on singing the song he had composed on his way back to town to keep his thoughts quiet. It wasn’t polished yet, hadn’t received the final touch, but hopefully it would suffice for now.

“I present to you the balled of the White Wolf and the Griffin”

The room quieted down as he plucked the strings. It took all of his focus to keep his voice even, as he sang of Geralt, the witcher who had bravely defended this town and slew a mighty beast. His song spoke of heroism and heartbreak. His voice wavered as he reached the part of the song that spoke of how the White Wolf had left his life, protecting the people who would shun him.

Jaskier knew that his tale was completely fabricated. He hadn’t been there. He had no way of knowing, if anything had happened even close to his story.  
But he refused to let himself think off the possibility that Geralt might have despaired in his last moments. Refused to let the town think of him as anything but a hero. It was the least he deserved, even if he got the details wrong.

After his song was finished, silence filled the room and Jaskier went back to his table in the corner to brood on his own. Ironic, wasn’t it.

He made it through the rest of his meal, without getting bothered, holding out strips of meat for the wolf every now and again. He shuffled to get up, when someone pushed back the chair across from him and settled down.

Geralt who had wagged his tail at the prospect of leaving the pub-room grew still.

“I am surprised a handsome bard such as yourself is sitting alone in a corner. I thought, you would rather enjoy people’s attention.”

Jaskier groaned inwardly, he had really hoped saying publically that he hadn’t been the one to kill the griffin, would make people leave him alone. Was this how Geralt had felt, back then in Posada?

The woman leaned forward, resting her weight on her elbows and allowing Jaskier a view on her bosom, which was an invitation that Jaskier for once was happy to decline. He looked at her face instead and found that for some reason she looked oddly familiar. But he could not place her. Maybe she had passed him on his way back into town? She smiled when she noticed his lingering gaze.

“So, that was a beautiful song you sang there.”

“Thanks.”

Maybe giving short answers would make her lose interest. It didn’t.

“Nice story. Though we both know, it was entirely made up.”

Now this caught Jaskier’s attention. He spluttered. “Wh-what?”

She smirked and pushed a strand of light brown hair behind her ears.

“I know for a fact that the griffin was still alive yesterday and the witcher left over a week ago. So… that means you must have slain it after all. Why not take the glory for yourself?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He fervently hoped no one was listening in. This woman could destroy his work of making the town honour Geralt’s memory. She ignored his admittedly weak protest.

“You must have been truly heroic. Care to tell me how it really happened, in private? Maybe show me some battlescars?”

She touched his forearm lightly. Geralt let out a low growl. Jaskier laughed at how tense he looked.

“No need to be jealous!”

He still took the opportunity to take his arm back to himself subtly.

“I’m sorry, but now is just not a good for me.”

In other circumstances he would have happily accepted her suggestion, but now it just felt wrong. Geralt seemed to agree, as his growling didn’t stop.

The woman looked closer at the wolf now for the first time and the corner of her mouth pulled upwards in a smirk. He answered by baring his teeth at her, in what could definitely not be mistaken for a smile. Her smile grew nervous.

“I know, it’s not a good time. That is the whole point.”

Pity filled her eyes as she let her eyes wander back to him.  
Something about it almost stirred a memory. Jaskier was sure now that he had met her before. But where?  
She didn’t give him any time to figure it out, before continuing.

“Your song…you still make him sound like the good guy. Even when you know that he’s not.”

“Now, that’s not true. He did fight the griffin. It was seriously injured when I saw it.”

“I’m not talking about the griffin. After what you told me last time, I would have thought you would jump at the opportunity to tell everyone how the Butcher of Blaviken was defeated by a lousy griffin.”

The wolf tugged at Jaskier’s sleeve, but the bard didn’t pay him any mind. His eyes narrowed at the undeserving title.

“Last time?” Oh. That explained the obvious advances the woman was making on him. “If I left you heartbroken, I apologize.”

She gave an unladylike snort.

“Me? I was under the impression that you were the heartbroken one.”

Jaskier blanked. _She_ had left _him_? No, he was sure that he remembered all of his loves that had slighted him. No matter what people might say about him, he did care for the people he wooed; more so than most lovers did probably.

She laughed at his expression and leaned back in her chair.

“You really have no idea, who I am, do you?” Jaskier’s face was answer enough. “Well then. I might have to clarify some things. First off, I’m Zofia. And no. I didn’t sleep with you. Not that I would have been averse to the idea, but you were seriously drunk. Far too drunk, really. So I suppose, it’s no surprise that you don’t remember me.”

Ah yes, that explained it. Jaskier might not remember the night, but he certainly could recall the headache he had the morning after. And the heartache he had felt just before getting pissed. It had been right after he had climbed down that mountain.

“In my defence, I did have a good reason to get sloshed,” Jaskier said with a strained voice.

“Oh I know. I took you to your room and took care of you. Mainly, I listened to you cry over how a certain witcher, the infamous White Wolf had ripped your heart out.”

The wolf seized his efforts to get Jaskier away from the woman. He had his tail tugged between his legs and turned his face away, ears flat.

“Your description of him was rather colourful. So when I saw him again a few weeks ago, I recognized him instantly. Really, I don’t know what you saw in him. He was as rude as anything. But he broke your heart and you might not remember it, but that night I looked after you, you were seriously hurt. I am aware that I don’t know you that well, but I had promised myself that if I ever met this monster, I would punch him in the face for what he’d done to you. Except, he looked like he would kill anyone who pissed him off. So instead I asked around and lo and behold, I found a witch willing to sell me a curse.”

How could she sound so proud?

“So yes, I know that he didn’t kill the griffin. I had followed him and watched as he fought the beast. He just drove it off. Enter me. He didn’t make it back here after I was done with him.”

Jaskier’s blood ran cold. He was horrified. He was the reason for Geralt’s death. No, no he couldn’t be.

“You’re lying.” His voice was flat, without any emotion.

The wolf who had grown alarmingly quiet during her story was so tense that his muscles trembled. Jaskier put a hand on his head. He didn’t know whether it was to calm the wolf or to ground himself. His eyes didn’t dare leave Zofia, lest she leave without further explanation. Without telling him it wasn’t his fault.  
But it was true, wasn’t it? Had it not been for him, this crazy woman who still looked at him with a pleased smile, would have never gone after Geralt and he would still be here, brooding in the corner in Jaskier’s stead.

His voice came out choked. “You killed Geralt. What the actual fuck?”

In an instant, the self-satisfied smirk left her face and a horrified expression took its place.

“What, no! I didn’t kill him. How can you even think something like that? I said I _cursed_ him. I’m not a murderer.”

The information took a moment to settle, then it was like a bucket full of cold water was dropped on him.  
All colour left his face and his breath hitched in his throat. Geralt was alive!

“Oh don’t look so happy now. I did it for you and you ruined my beautiful plan! I didn’t think you would go and travel with him again. What happened to ‘I will not think about talking with him again, unless he apologizes for everything and actually shows that he appreciates me’?”

“What do you mean, ‘travel with him again’? Just because I don’t want him cursed, doesn’t mean I would immediately forgive him. I was drunk while I said those things, but I still meant it.”

He felt the wolf flinch under his hand and he petted him reassuringly.

“What was the curse exactly? How bad is it, is Geralt in pain? Where is he anyways?”

Zofia stared at him. Slowly her eyes drifted to the wolf next to him and then back at Jaskier.

“You don’t know. All this time I thought you were just…”

The confused look at Jaskeir’s face made her pause. Jaskier leant forward. She couldn’t stop talking now, he needed to know. This was important.

_“Where is he?”_

For a few heartbeats she didn’t react. Then she pointed vaguely to his side. The wolf whined and tried to hide his face beneath his paws. Jaskier looked at the wolf and back at the woman, annoyed. Why couldn’t she just answer his question?

“Does he make you uncomfortable? I swear, he is well behaved. I don’t know why he kept growling at you, before. He normally isn’t so rude. To tell the truth, he is far better behaved than some dogs, let alone wolves, he is special like that. Actually he…” he trailed off.

It took him another second to really register the thought that was slowly but insistently pushing to the front of his mind.

He yanked his hand off of the wolf’s- of _Geralt’s_ head like he had burned it and held it close to his chest. His eyes were blown wide and he couldn’t help breathing an audible “no”.

Geralt tried to make himself look as small and inconspicuous as possible. Zofia gave him a sheepish look and rubbed the back of her neck.

“I thought it would be ironic, you know? The White Wolf who hurt you becoming an actual white wolf. Like in the stories. I thought you of all people would appreciate the irony. Or at least get a good song out of it or something.”

He didn’t listen. His mind was still catching up with this new information and everything it implied.

“He is a bloody wolf?,” he hissed. “And he- do you have any idea of the things I told him about, thinking he didn’t understand me?”

Jaskier paled. He had practically told Geralt that he had broken his heart and had cried about it _right in front of him_. He had sung a seriously unflattering song about him. He had- it didn’t matter now. As soon as Geralt turned back, he would never see him again anyways. Before, there might have been hope, but now there was no way Geralt would stick with him. He took a deep breath.

“Ok, so how do we turn him back? Do you have like a potion or a spell or something?”

He fiddled with his hands. Now that he couldn’t just pet the wolf- Geralt!- anymore whenever he was nervous, his hands felt uncomfortably empty. The woman’s answer didn’t ease his concern.

“I-I’m sorry. I didn’t think you would want to break the spell. I didn’t even think, you would ever find out about it, really. I really only wanted to help you, I didn’t know, he would still mean so much to you after what he did, so I didn’t ask the witch how to undo the curse. And I’m afraid she’s long gone now. I’m so sorry, I can’t help you.” Her voice became smaller towards the end.

Jaskier ran his hands through his hair. How on earth was he supposed to break a curse on his own?

“It’s probably for the best. Not that I don’t appreciate it, but I think I can do without your help for a while.”

Jaskier paced the room. He had done so ever since coming up to his room. Geralt just sat in a corner unmoving, as if to make Jaskier forget he was there.

Finally, Jaskier stopped in his tracks. He still avoided looking at Geralt.

“So,” he said and winced at how awkward he sounded.

How do you talk to a wolf who turned out to be your best friend who turned out to have hated you all along? He cleared his throat and began again.

“So, I said a lot of things…could we just not mention them again? I mean, you can’t mention anything anyways right now, not that you would ever talk a lot as a human…witcher. But anyways, just forget everything I said, alright?”

There was no reaction from the- from Geralt. Jaskier decided to take that as agreement. Geralt surely would be more than glad to never have to think about any of the things Jaskier had told him. He resumed his pacing.

“Ok, ok, so where do we find a cure? Oh, this would be so much easier, if you could talk.”

He kept mumbling to himself. He tried his best to come up with ideas, but it was so hard to focus on the task at hand, when all he could think about was how he had messed up so badly. How had he not noticed before? Hell, he _did_ notice similarities between the wolf and the witcher. He even gave him the same damn name! But he'd been too stupid to put two and two together, it was his fault, it was all his fault! And the things Geralt now knew of him. He couldn’t think clearly. His breathing got ragged and it felt like the walls were caving in on him. Getting smaller and smaller and he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t focus. He had to keep pacing, had to clear his head, he had to find a cure and he had to think, _just think!_

A nudge on his hand stopped him. It was so familiar, so comforting that for a moment he forgot that Geralt must hate him for his stupidity. If it had been him all along, that meant that Geralt had comforted him, had protected him from monsters and stayed by his side through it all. So what, if it had only been in hopes to find a cure, or just because Jaskier was at least familiar. Geralt had chosen to stay with him. At least for now he was willing to ignore all of the uncomfortable things Jaskier had subjected him to. There went his thoughts, spiralling again.  
Another nudge made him snap out of it. Geralt’s panting was slow and steady and Jaskier tried to focus on that instead of his own treacherous thoughts. As he mimicked Garalt’s panting, hee slowly but surely regained his breath.

“Thank you,” he said quietly.

Geralt pitched his ears a bit and gave a soft woof. Jaskier looked at him and saw him walk over to the bed and put a paw on it. He insistently nodded his head towards it. Jaskier took the cue. Geralt was right, of course. By the way it was going, he would not find a solution tonight. And it had been yet another stressful day in a row of stressful days.

Jaskier quickly stipped out of his borrowed clothes and snuggled under the blanket. He closed his eyes, but opened them just as quickly, when he heard Geralt shuffle around on the floor and lie down.

“Geralt, what are you doing? You don’t have to sleep on the floor, we’ll probably be doing that more than enough in the foreseeable future.”

After a moment, Geralt walked up to the bed but hesitated. Jaskier lifted the blanked a bit.

“It’s not like we never slept together before. I mean, not like _that_ , we haven’t. I mean, we shared a- we slept in the same bed. You don’t need to make it awkward.” Nice going there. “And now that I know that you’re not a real wolf, you won’t have to suffer me trying to cuddle you anymore. We don’t even have to touch. The bed is big enough…”

He was rambling again. It was better if he just shut up, before embarrassing himself even more. He closed his mouth and watched as Geralt deflated, probably in defeat, because he had to share a bed with Jaskier yet again.  
He jumped onto the bed and curled in on himself, trying to get comfortable. The bard shuffled as far away from him as possible, though it broke his heart.

Cuddling him close at night had become a comfort for him. A small, selfish part of him irrationally thought that it could have been better, had he not found out about the curse.  
Then at least, he would still be able to hold the one friend he thought he had made, close.

Unbeknownst to him, Geralt, curling even tighter together, so as not to touch Jaskier unwantedly, thought the same.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, it took Jaskier a while and a lot of obvious hints to figure it out, but at least now he knows.   
> And in the books, Geralt said that some monsters can be killed with a steel blade. he didn't say which monsters exactly, so I fugured a griffin is basically just a really cool animal. It hurt my soul to have them kill a griffin, because griffins are awesome!  
> The "two minutes" thing is a reference to one of my favourite songs from "the amazing devil", if you haven't checked them out, you really should, that band is amazing! ^^  
> Also thank you all so much for you lovely comments! They really keep me going <3


	8. Chapter 8

Jaskier sat cross-legged on the bed. Opposite of him sat Geralt, giving occasional growls as the only commentary for Jaskier’s admittedly bad ideas.   
They have been at it for what seemed like hours. Jaskier groaned. 

“Alright then, let’s go over it again. You have broken curses before, so how hard can it be?”

Geralt huffed amusedly. Just because a witcher was able to break curses, didn’t mean anyone could.

“You know, we wouldn’t be in this predicament, if you had just told me about all of your adventures in more detail. Now all we have to go off of are my songs and we both know they are mostly fictional.”

Geralt laid his head on his paws, as Jaskier rattled off all of his songs that featured some kind of curse. There weren’t many.

“Oh, what about the Striga! If I remember correctly, you only had to stay with her for a night and that was it!”

Geralt lifted his head and fixed him with a pointed look.

“Yeah, fine, it probably wasn’t that easy. Not that I would know about it, since you didn’t deem it important enough to mention. Ahh yes, also we spend far more than a night together, so that’s another useless idea.”

Not that that was any surprise.  
Anything he had come up with for the last half an hour was utterly rubbish and had earned him more than one annoyed look from Geralt.  
Jaskier leaned forward.

“Wait- you aren’t a werewolf are you?”

Geralt growled. Jaskier lifted his hands in defeat.

“I’m just asking. I never saw a werewolf before. But then you probably would have turned back already on your own, wouldn’t you? I don’t remember much about werewolves. Are they even cursed?”

Geralt looked away.

“Ok, so that’s not helpful at all. And don’t give me that look! Your best idea was to drink a witcher potion that has absolutely no relation to breaking curses. Who knows what would have happened to you in this form? Maybe you would have gone feral! So, I don’t accept neither criticism nor judgement from you.”

Suddenly Jaskier jumped up excitedly.

“OH! That’s it! The knight at princess Pavetta’s betrothal feast! He was cursed and we saw him get turned back into a human. All it took was true love and some destiny! It’s just like in those old stories. I knew they couldn’t _all_ be made up. We just have to get your love to confess to you or perform an act of true love, whatever that means.”

He saw Geralt tense across from him. Jaskier rolled his eyes.

“Oh come on, now. It is our best idea yet. At least it shouldn’t be too hard to find your true love. We just have to…go to Yennefer.”

The words tasted foul in his mouth. Asking Yennefer for help had been the obvious answer all along. It had also been the one idea he had not dared to mention.

Going to Yennefer for an antidote was one thing he already didn’t want to do. But standing to the side, while she told Geralt that she loved him and him transforming back was something entirely else. The idea alone was like a punch to the gut.

Geralt didn’t seem that enthusiastic either. His ears went flat and he avoided Jaskier’s eyes.

“I know you two didn’t part on the best terms, but we have to try. I’m sure, when we tell her what happened, she will come to her senses. And this could be your chance to prove that you don’t just love her because of your wish.”

His mouth went dry. He had to remind himself that if Yennefer could help Geralt by being his love than that was a good thing. No matter how the thought twisted his insides.

“We just have to find her. You’re tied by destiny, you always cross paths eventually. I’m sure we will find her in no time.”

They didn’t.  
After aimlessly wandering from town to town for two weeks, hoping that she would just randomly show up, Jaskier realized that his plan might have been flawed.  
They had been walking though the rain for hours and Jaskier’s mood was at a low. He threw his hands up, startling Geralt who walked beside him with a lowered head.

“Honestly, what’s taking so long? Destiny never had a problem shoving you two together before! But now that we need that witch, she’s nowhere to be found.”

He flinched, when a voice answered him from behind.

“That might be because Novigrad already has a ‘witch’. Though I prefer sorceress.”

Jaskier turned around and saw a woman. She was beautiful, with curly hair and a glint in her eyes.

Geralt barked, wagged his tail and ran a circle around her. Jaskier chuckled at his antics.

“Do you know her?”

Geralt barked again, coming back to the bard and tugging at Jaskier’s shirt to get him closer to the woman. She gave an amused smile.

“I do believe, we know each other. Tough last time we met, he was decidedly less talkative. Also he was decidedly less of a wolf.”

That was a fair assessment. Jaskier furrowed his brows.

“And you still recognize him?”

“I would be a bad sorceress, if I didn’t. My name is Triss Merigold.”

“Julian Alfred Pancrantz. Also known as Jaskier.”

He swept in a low bow, earning a light chuckle from Triss who looked at him with renewed curiosity.

“Jaskier. I have heard of you.”

He sent her a radiant smile. “My reputation precedes me. It is good to hear that my songs have reached the ears of such a lovely lady.”

“Oh, it wasn’t your songs I heard, I’m afraid. A friend told me all about you.”

Oh, this was interesting. Potentially it was really, really bad. He hoped that this friend didn’t turn out to be a past lover.

“And who would that friend be?”

She looked at Geralt, hesitated, then said “Yennefer of Vengerberg.”

Ok, so definitely not a lover. At least not his.  
He could very well imagine what she had told Triss about him, none of it good. Another pissed off sorceress was the last thing they needed right now.  
No, wait. Actually this was exactly what they needed.

“Yennefer? You don’t happen to know where she is right now, do you?”

“You just missed her. She was here a few days ago.”

Oh. That meant, she could be anywhere by now. Was it bad that he felt slightly relieved at that? It meant that he could stay with Geralt a bit longer, maybe reconcile.  
Though he dreaded travelling in this weather. The wind picked up and made the rain feel like tiny needles on Jaskier’s skin.

“How about we discuss this at my place. You two look like you could use a dry place to stay.”

She had been right. Being in a dry house immediately lifted Jaskier’s spirits.

With his hands around a steaming cup of tea, he filled Triss in about everything that had happened in the past few weeks, while Geralt dried off his fur at the fireplace.  
Every now and again, Geralt would bark in protest and roll his eyes, to which Jaskier would respond with an “Oh, so you don’t like my version of events? How about you tell it then”.

Triss just nodded along to what he was saying. Somehow she didn’t seem surprised by his story at all. When he was finished, she took a long sip of her tea, before speaking.

“You can be lucky he turned out to be Geralt. A real wolf, without witcher-healing would probably not have survived having a crossbow bolt yanked out of them without getting medicine afterwards.”

Jaskier huffed. “If he had been a real wolf, I don’t think _I_ would have survived yanking out the bolt to begin with. Not to mention that I would have been killed by the bandits.”

At that, Geralt stared at him and growled.

“What? We both know approaching you after you helped me was a stupid decision. You don’t have to act like I wasn’t aware I could have died.”

Geralt’s growling didn’t stop, but it grew quieter.

“But back to the point. You are a sorceress. Surely, you must have some idea how to break the curse.”

Any solution that didn’t involve Yennefer would be appreciated at this point. Hoping against hope that visiting her would become unnecessary, he looked at Triss.  
She leaned back in her chair and fixed him with a long stare.

“I don’t specialize in curses I’m afraid.”

Geralt let out a woof and came closer, resting his head on Jaskier’s thigh, who immediately started stroking his head. Out of pure habit, of course.

“You’re right, Geralt, I do recognize curses. But like with the Striga, I can’t break them myself. You were the one who knew how to do that.”

Jaskier smiled in the way he only did, when he sensed a good story. He leaned forward, intrigued.

“You were there, when he defeated the Striga?”

“Not defeated. Saved. And I was only there to tell him to do it. But I suspect her curse was of a completely different nature. This is…it’s not dangerous. Geralt can still understand us and act rationally.”

“I don’t think he ever did think rationally. Or try to understand me,” Jaskier muttered.

Geralt leaned more firmly against him. Jaskier sighed.

“But we already eliminated breaking the curse like back with the Striga. We think…it sounds silly, but we think, true love might rid him of the curse. Which is why we need to find Yennefer.”

Triss contemplated him for a second, letting her almost unnoticeably narrowed eyes wander to Geralt, who still had his head on the bard’s lap.

“It does make some sense, actually. Like I said, I am no expert in this field, but I believe that curses that only change people’s outward appearance, tend to be broken by love. But I also agree that talking to Yennefer would be a good idea. She does know a lot more about curses than I do.”

They decided that Jaskier and Geralt would stay with Triss till the next morning. Jaskier thanked the sorceress for her hospitality, but in reality, the thing he was most thankful for was the additional time he got to spend with Geralt. After getting to terms with the idea of never seeing the witcher again, travelling with him had felt far to comforting, even when he hadn’t known who his wolf companion was.  
After tomorrow, after getting Yennefer to confess her feelings to Geralt, Jaskier would have to go back to roaming the continent on his own. At least for this night, he could stay with his witcher.

Jaskier was almost asleep on the spare bed, when Geralt jumped onto the bed as well and cuddled closer to Jaskier. He pretended to be asleep, as Geralt lifted Jaskier’s arm with his snout and draped it over himself. Jaskier fell asleep with a smile on his face.

“Where exactly will this portal take us?,” Jaskier asked, looking at the ring of dust that was swirling in the air warily and Geralt growled. Roach seemed to share their resentment for the magic, as she wouldn’t budge, when they tried to move her towards it. It was quickly decided, that the horse would stay with Triss for the time being.

“Straight into Yennefer’s home. I did warn her, that you would come.”

“Alright then. Geralt, are you ready to see your love again?”

The wolf stared at him exasperatedly and snarled. Jaskier ignored it.

“Thank you, again so much, for helping us,” he told Triss and swept her hand up to give it a kiss on the knuckles.

“You’re welcome. I hope, you find what you’re looking for.”

Jaskier took a deep breath, rested a hand on Geralt’s back to ground himself and stepped into the portal with him.

On the other side, they were welcomed by snickering.

“No need to look so constipated, bard.”

Easy for her to say. He felt like he would throw up any minute. And not just from the teleportation.

“Well, what can I say, it comes with seeing you.”

He sent her a lopsided smirk. She didn’t deem it worthy to answer. Instead she focused on the wolf by his side.

“Hello Geralt. It’s been a while.”

Geralt didn’t react.   
Jaskier felt incredible awkward, as he stood to the side while the other two were making eyes at each other. The room they were standing in - or rather, he and Geralt were standing; Yennefer sat on what looked like a small throne- was wide and bright, but it still felt too small for him. Finally, he cleared his throat.

“So this might be really obvious, but Geralt is cursed and we need you to help break the curse.”

Yennefer stood up from her throne and walked towards them with deliberately slow steps.

“You need my help? What a surprise.”

Her voice dripped with sarcasm. Jaskier resisted giving the snarky reply, that was already at the tip of his tongue.

“We do. It’s a long shot, but we believe that by Geralt’s true love confessing her feelings to him, he might turn back.”

The words left a bitter aftertaste in his mouth. Yennefer lifted an eyebrow.

“And that is supposed to be me? I don’t think so.”

She turned around. Geralt made no move to stop her.  
Why didn’t he stop her? The love of his life was turning away from him and he just let her go?  
With a frustrated sigh, he called out to Yennefer.

“Please.”

She stopped.  
Jaskier hoped, he wouldn’t have to repeat the humiliation of saying that word to her of all people.

“You’re his only chance. Tell him you love him and it will be fine. I’ll get out of your hair and you two can get passed what happened.”

She didn’t grace him with an answer, just turned to Geralt and said stiffly: “Geralt of Rivia, witcher and White Wolf, I love you.”

Jaskier held his breath and waited.

And waited.

Slowly he released the air. Nothing had happened.  
He wasn’t sure how to feel about that. The greater, selfish part of him was infinitely relieved. It wasn’t Yennefer. But another part of him felt defeated. She had been his only useful idea. How would he turn Geralt back without her?

He looked at the witcher, who still very much looked like a wolf and was surprised to find his eyes resting on Jaskier instead of the sorceress. He didn’t even look angry or surprised.  
Or maybe that was just Jaskier being bad at reading his body language. Yennefer was looking at him as well.

“See? It didn’t work.”

“No, wait!”

He was grasping at straws, but it was all that he had.  
Geralt hadn’t been surprised his plan had failed. Which could only mean that he was resigned to staying in this form. He didn’t think Jaskier could save him. He prayed that he wasn’t right.

“The way you said it, you didn’t mean it. You have to really confess your feelings.”

Something flashed in her eyes. Irritation seeped through her voice as she snapped “Confess my feelings? Fine. Geralt, I meant what I said on the mountain. Whatever it is we had, it wasn’t real. And I don’t want it anymore. Maybe with time we will become friends again. Real friends, but there is nothing else for you here. I did never love you truly and I never will. I am not the one who can break your curse.” She shifted her gaze to the bard. “There. Now maybe you should follow your own advice.”

With a dismissive wave of her hand she made another portal appear next to them, as she turned away for good.

“This will take you back to Triss. Show yourself out.”

Jaskier didn’t know what to do. He had failed Geralt. And he suspected, asking Yennefer for more confessions was not going to work. She did sound unusually sincere when she said she didn’t love Geralt. Staying here would be futile, but it felt wrong to leave without trying more.

His decision was taken out of his hands, as Geralt took his sleeve in his mouth and guided him through the portal.  
Jaskier looked back and just as the portal closed, he swore he could see Yennefer laugh at him.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: horrible self-care and self-esteem issues. Again, I don't know whether that warrants a trigger warning, but I put one there just to be safe.

They were back on the road again. Thankfully, this time they had a tent, food and other essential supplies with them that Jaskier had bought in Novigrad.

After being dismissed by Yennefer, he had asked Triss to tell Geralt that she loved him. They both knew it was a lost cause. Still she indulged him, but Jaskier wasn’t surprised when it didn’t work. The way her eyes had lit up when talking about Yennfer had made it obvious that her heart lay elsewhere.

“Don’t worry Geralt. I promise I will find a solution to this. It might just take a bit longer than I thought. But I’m not leaving you until you’re back to yourself.”

While Jaskier got Roach, Triss took Geralt to the side and talked to him.  
Jaskier assumed she told him to be reasonable and not fight monsters while he was a wolf. He sure hoped Geralt would heed that advice.  
As a parting gift, Triss gave him some potions for the road, should he get sick. Hopefully he wouldn’t need them, but he was glad to have them nonetheless.

That is how they found themselves on the road once more.

“So, Geralt. I just wanted to say that I’m sorry. For what happened with Yennefer. I really thought she would be able to break the curse. I wouldn’t have dragged you to her, if I had known.”

Geralt flicked his ears back in acknowledgement. Jaskier hoped that that meant his apology was accepted.

“But, hey, she didn’t say we were on the wrong track! She just said she wasn’t the one to break the curse, so finding your true love is actually the solution here, this is great!”

He tried fill his voice with false cheer, although his heart grew heavy.  
So there was someone out there that Geralt loved and he hadn’t trusted Jaskier enough to tell him about her. Or maybe his own feelings were so obvious that Geralt just wanted to spare him the heartbreak and embarrassment. Or maybe… he halted to a stop and scowled.

“Geralt, you _do_ have someone you love, don’t you?”

This would all be for nothing, if there wasn’t anyone who held the witcher’s heart. The wolf gave the best impression of a nod and barked once.

“Oh thank goodness. Alright then, do you know where she is?”

Geralt let out a bark which ended in a sneeze. It almost looked like a human who was trying to disguise a laugh with a cough. Jaskier put a hand on his hip and pointed the other one at Geralt’s face.

“Oh no, you don’t get to laugh at me, I’m trying to help here. So, do you know or not? Can you point out the direction?”

Geralt looked at him with what could only be described as puppy dog eyes. He nudged Jaskier’s hand like he had done so many times before. The bard sighted.

“Alright, so that’s a no then. That’s fine, we’ll work this out. I’m going to ask you things. Wagging your tail means yes, growling means no. Alright?”

Geralt wagged his tail once. Oh, this was already easier than just guessing whatever Geralt was trying to tell him. Jaskier rubbed his hands and thought for a second.

“Do I know her?” A wag. “Ok, so that narrows it down…somewhat. Is she still alive?”

Another yes. This was going great!

“Uhm… Is she beautiful?” Now that was a definite yes. “Good to know. I don’t know why I asked that though. That didn’t really help.”

But he was kind of out of yes-or-no-questions.

“Do you think you can write her name in the dirt with your paws?”

Geralt considered the dusty road for a moment before scratching at it and pushing the dirt around with his snout. He sneezed again and looked at Jaskier expectantly. The bard hesitated.

“That’s… well done Geralt.”

He had absolutely no idea what the scribbles on the floor where supposed to mean.  
To be honest, he wasn’t even sure they were letters. He took a wild guess.

“Is that an L?”

Geralt gave him an exasperated look and flattened his ears. He pointed at his scribbles with his head and then pressed against Jaskier’s leg.

“I’m sorry, I’m trying here, but your handwriting is just really bad.”

The wolf growled.

“Oh don’t be offended. Maybe we should try with the questions again. You said I know that girl, so it can’t be anyone from Kaer Morhen. Oh, sweet Melitele, _is it Roach?_ ”

Geralt drew back, clearly taken by surprise and growled empathetically, starting to walk away. Even Raoch looked scandalized. Jaskier held her reins more firmly and jogged to catch up with him and walked beside him.

“Hey, I’m only tossing around ideas here. Just wanted to make sure. It is obvious you care about her and she is gorgeous. And no one specified if this love should be romantic.”

Geralt huffed, but ignored him otherwise. Jaskier sighted.

“So, not Roach. Is it someone you had saved? Someone you have slept with before? Someone _I_ have slept with?”

He didn’t get an answer to any of those questions. Geralt just looked at him without any enthusiasm, head hung low. Damn, Jaskier had really messed up.

“She’s not already taken, is she?” Geralt let out an unsure whine. “Oh. Ok. I’m sorry. Does she not know about how you feel? Oh, who am I kidding. Of course she doesn’t. Please don’t take this the wrong way, but you don’t really show your feelings very well.”

Geralt titled his head and pitched his ears. The barked insistently.

“Are you- are you asking me, how to court someone?”

Geralt growled, but stopped quickly. He looked away embarrassed and wagged his tail. Jaskier couldn’t help the laugh that escaped him. Geralt glowered at him, but his tail kept wagging.

“Well, fret not, dear friend, you have come to the right place. So the most important thing is that you have to be attentive. Really listen to them, while they talk. Remember what they are saying. Even when they are of few words, you will eventually get to know what they mean. When you notice that they feel bad, you should comfort them. Or try to keep their mind of things; that’s what I like to do, distract them from what keeps them down. Take care of them. Bring them stuff, help them bath.”

Oh shit. He quickly backpedalled. “I mean, just help them in general.”

Good safe.

“And then there are the other obvious things. Stay at their side, be loyal to them. Bring them flowers. You know. All that stuff I sing about.” He gestured vaguely with his hands. This was really hard without just naming things he used to do for Geralt. He trailed of.

Geralt was looking at him, like he was doing his best to not miss a single word of what he said. Jaskier smiled and hoped it looked less painful than it felt.

“I’m sure you’ll woo her in no time, with these tips. Well, that is as a man. As a dog, you already look cute, so that shouldn’t be a problem. Not that I think that as a man you look-“

He coughed before he said something he’d regret.

“ But back to the problem at hand. Who is this lady... If you and I both know her, that means, you must have met her on our travels. So, how about we go to every place, we visited together.”

That would take a while. But it’s not like they had any other leads and Geralt wasn’t very responsive. He did look like he considered Jaskier’s idea and gave something akin to a shrug, before letting his shoulders sag and trotting onwards.

It turned out that they had visited a lot of places together, not all of them anywhere close to each other. They had made it through three towns already without any luck.

“I really think, this could be it,” Jaskier said with more confidence than he felt. Especially considering Geralt’s annoyed and somewhat amused expression, as he knocked on the door of the establishment.

It didn’t take long, before the door was opened by a scarcely clad woman with auburn hair. She recognized him immediately.

“Jaskier! Come to grace our fine establishment once again? And without the witcher this time?”

Jaskier spluttered. Normally he was the picture of charm and confidence when he came here.

“Ahh, well you see, I have a bit of an odd request today.”

The woman nodded in understanding. It surely wasn’t the first time someone had come to her with an ‘odd request’.

“I hope you know it will cost more.”

“Oh, no, nothing of that sort. The request is about my wolf.”

He stepped to the side and didn’t dare look at Geralt.   
He was sure, the witcher was equally if not more embarrassed by his awkward phrasing. The expression on the woman’s face changed.

“Listen, Jaskier, just because you come here often, doesn’t mean I will let you do anything you want. There are boundaries and my girls want nothing to do with that sort of thing. It is my job to keep them safe and I’ll be damned if I let them down.”

She made to slam the door in his face and Jaskier panicked.

“I just need them to tell him, that they love him. That’s all. He… he has very low self-esteem.”

He heard Geralt give something between a bark and a snarl. He probably couldn’t decide if Jaskier’s idiocy was hilarious or appalling. Jaskier felt the same way.

The woman gave him another odd look, but let him inside the brothel.

Jaskier was sure that at some point he would die of second-hand embarrassment as the women the witcher had bedded before, lined up to tell Geralt that they loved him, some of them even petting him and telling him he was a good boy, while they could hear moans coming from the adjoining rooms.

He could feel Geralt looking at him with utter resignation, as if Jaskier was the only reason, he was enduring this.

They left the brothel having made absolutely no progress in breaking the curse, instead having made utter fools of themselves.  
They exchanged a glance. Both of them just looked so done. They came to a silent agreement to never show their faces at this brothel ever again. That must have been the most awkward encounter anyone must have had at this establishment and that was saying something.  
Suddenly Jaskier broke into a fit of giggles. Geralt stared at him for a bit, before pressing his head into his side and wagging his tail.

Over the weeks, Jaskier’s enthusiasm diminished. He could no longer see humour in their situation. He didn’t know what to do. What had he overlooked? He was sure, Geralt would have given some sort of sign, if they were close to his ladylove. But the witcher almost gave of the impression that he was just following the bard around, not even trying to find the one who held his heart. Maybe he had already given up on the notion of ever finding her again.

This revelation only spurned Jaskier on to be more determined in his search. There was no brothel he left unchecked, no woman he didn’t ask whether she had ever fancied a witcher with white hair, he even asked some children to hug the wolf, which some of them did with enthusiasm, but still brought no result.

After the fourth week of disappointments, Jakier stopped playing his lute, unless they ran out of money to eat and even then he only ate what was strictly necessary. He couldn’t waste Geralt’s time by eating more than he absolutely had to.

They had just left Posada and Jaskier was setting up their tent.  
He was too exhausted to notice Geralt take off. He only realized his companion had been gone, when he came back, carrying a dead rabbit in his mouth. He dropped it in front of Jaskier and nudged it towards him, giving of a concerned whine.

Jaskier smiled, for what felt like the first time in forever. He quickly skinned the rabbit and roasted it over a fire, he had managed to light after many trials and errors.

Geralt sat next to Jaskier, looking at him with concern in his eyes. He rested his head in Jaskier’s lap and let the bard play with his fur, as he always did lately, when he was upset. It was far too often. Jaskier looked over at Roach, who was eating the grass at the side of the road. At least she seemed content with their situation.

The silence dragged on and for the longest time, the only sound that could be heard was the cracking of the fire.

Eventually Jaskier spoke. His voice was raw.

“You know, I didn’t mean what I said about you. Before I knew you weren’t just a wolf, I mean.”

Geralt lifted his head enough to look at Jaskier attentively. The bard’s fingers stilled in his fur.

“I know, I am the one who said I didn’t want to talk about that anymore, but I just wanted you to know. That silly song, all those times I insulted you… I was just hurt. And I know that is no excuse. I mean, I know that you didn’t mean those things you said to me on the mountain either. You were just hurt as well. I know that. Have known it even as you said it. But sometimes, I just wonder… what if I am wrong and you really didn’t want to see me again? That’s why I avoided you this spring. I have forced my presence into your life unwantedly and I know that I can be annoying. So maybe there was some truth in what you had said? Maybe in the heat of the moment, you had said what you had been thinking all along.”

He felt a tear slip down his cheek and land in Geralt’s fur.

“Rationally I don’t think you actually hated me, but I can’t help it. Sometimes I just feel like I am just a burden and you really would be better off without me. Even now, when I am trying to help, I just put you in situations that make you uncomfortable.”

Geralt studied him for a moment longer and when it was clear that Jaskier had said what he needed to get off his chest, he licked the tear tracks off his face and snuggled closer with a whine.

“Thank you,” he whispered. “For listening. And for the rabbit.”

He gave a shaky smile. Geralt stayed pressed against Jaskier as they ate and followed him into the tent afterwards.

As they laid down to sleep on the bedroll, Jaskier threw an arm over Geralt and pulled him closer, as he had done before he had realized who his wolf-companion was.  
Geralt snuggled into his chest and closed his eyes. Although it wasn’t yet winter and they were sheltered from the wind, Geralt could feel Jaskier shiver in his sleep.

When Jaskier woke up the next morning, he found the spare blanket, he had kept in Roaches saddlebags draped over him. He looked at Geralt, who was still soundly asleep and smiled.

After that day, Geralt went hunting more often. One time, while they were passing through a town, Jaskier even found a stolen pastry in his bag. Maybe now Geralt couldn’t protect him from monsters anymore, but he apparently wasn’t done looking out for his bard.

Time dragged on and Jaskier became even quieter. He was at the ends of his wits. They were taking a break from walking around midday, Jaskier eating some bread and handing Geralt the meat he had bought in the town, they had left yesterday.

“I’m sorry,” Jaskier said almost inaudibly. “I really tried to stay optimistic, but I don’t think there is much more we can do. I’m not going to stop trying, of course. But we are just aimlessly walking around. I don’t even know who we are looking for.”

He raked his hands through his hair and hung his head. Geralt whined and nudged him with his head, but Jaskier couldn’t look at him. He had failed his friend.

When Geralt’s stood up, he lifted his head slightly to see what he was doing. The witcher walked a few steps into the field adjoining the road and looked around searchingly, snout close to the ground.  
Apparently he found what he was looking for. He barked excitedly and gnawed at something, making frustrated sounds.

Eventually he came back with a wagging tail, carrying something in his mouth carefully. He put a paw on Jaskier’s leg to get his attention and presented the thing to him.

It took Jaskier a moment to recognize it. It was a cornflower. The same kind of flower he had made a flower-crown of for Geralt after they had finally left the woods.

He carefully took it from Geralt and stroked the petals that were left. Gerlat wagged his tail, looking at Jaskier proudly, before his eyes fell on the flower and he deflated with a disappointed sound.

Most of the petals had fallen off when Geralt had grabbed the flower with his mouth and the leaves were shredded. It was barely recognizable anymore, wolf teeth evidently not being fit to pluck flowers, but Jaskier felt his heart swell.  
He beamed at Geralt and put the flower behind his own ear. It looked pitiful and he could still see Geralt regretting having presented Jaskier with such a broken gift, but for him it was just as precious as his lute. He gently turned Geralt’s face, that he had averted in shame, to him and put his forehead against the witchers.

“Thank you,” he whispered and felt like he had never meant the words more in his life.

Geralt licked his cheek and left his side again, only to drag his lute towards him. Hesitantly Jaskier reached out. He hadn’t played in a while and he was suddenly afraid that he didn’t have the calluses on his fingers or the nimbleness to play anymore.

Geralt encouraged him with a bark and Jaskier’s fingers found their placement on the strings like second nature. He plucked the strings and after a while joined in with his voice. All the while Geralt stared at him mesmerized.

After he had finished his fourth song, he heard a clap beside him. He flinched hard and Geralt jumped up. They had both been too focussed on his playing to notice the man that had approached them.

Before Jaskier had any time to greet the man, Geralt ran towards him and Jaskier, panicking, threw himself onto him, more of less effectively tackling him.  
The bard knew that Geralt could easily break free from his grip and likely only didn’t do so to not accidently hurt Jaskier in the process.

“What are you doing? You can’t let him think that you are dangerous, don’t you see that he has a sword,” Jaskier whispered.

The chuckle that escaped the stranger made him look up. Apparently he had somehow heard Jaskier, although he had kept his voice as low as possible.

“Well spotted. I do, in fact, have two swords. And I was actually quite close to drawing one.”

He crossed his arms in front of his chest. His muscles stretched the shirt he was wearing over the arms. There was no doubt that he didn’t need a sword to fight Jaskier.  
The bard swallowed from his awkward position holding onto Geralt. He must make a ridiculous sight.

“Yes, thank you for not doing that. I appreciate it,” he said lamely.

“Oh, not so fast. You see, you might not look like a threat, but there is still the fact that you are somehow able to hold back a giant wolf and that you just reek of magic.”

Jaskier paled. “Damn it, I told you, it would cause trouble, attacking strangers,” he hissed at Geralt.

When Geralt huffed and stopped struggling faintly in Jaskier’s grip, he loosened his arms around him and righted himself. He casually brushed off the dirt of his trousers.

“I assure you that he is not a threat. Tame as a lamb.” Geralt growled a bit at that, but it sounded more annoyed than angry. Jaskier added. “But don’t tell him that. He likes to keep his intimidating image.” Maybe a joke would deflate the tension rolling off of the other man.

The stranger gave a lopsided smirk that stretched the scar that ran through his face.

“I’ll try to remember. So I assume, he is the one who emanates all that magic? Just to let you know, I don’t trust magical wolves and humans who can hold them back without much of a struggle.”

He paused to give Jaskier a chance to defend himself.

A chance he let go by.

The stranger took a threatening step forward. Jaskier took one back.  
For some reason, Geralt didn’t seem to mind. Jaskier cursed the bravery of the witcher silently. He might have had no problem taking on that man as a witcher, but Jaskier hoped he wouldn’t take any risks going against him as a wolf.

“In fact, it is my job to kill beasts like him.”

Jaskier’s gaze shifted to the man’s back and the two swords strapped at it. The same type of swords Geralt used to carry around. His eyes fell lower and landed on the familiar looking medallion that rested on his chest. He let out a gasp.

“You’re a witcher!”

“And this horse over there belongs to my brother. He never lets her out of his sight, so care to explain?”

The stranger pointed at Roach, who lifted her head, looked at him and then resumed eating grass, obviously unbothered.

Jaskier started laughing. He couldn’t believe his luck. After an eternity searching for a solution to their problem on their own, they ran into another witcher. More importantly, one that seemed to know Geralt! The man gave him a strange look.

“I know! I told him that he seemed absurdly close to Roach!”

He gasped for air. His sides were starting to hurt. The stranger scowled.

“You know Geralt?”

“Know him? I’ve been travelling with him for ages. I have written songs about the idiot and right now I am trying to break a curse that he caught.”

As measly prove to his words, he took out the medallion that he had kept safely tucked away in his shirt since having found it. The man studied it for a second before his gaze shifted to Geralt who had turned away in second-hand embarrassment at Jaskier’s reaction. The man did a double-take. Than he fell in with Jaskier’s laughter.

“Geralt? Is that you?”

Geralt let out a huff.

“That means, you are Jaskier. You know, I have heard your songs. I have been wondering who would be so stupid to follow grumpy old Geralt around, but he really is tame around you, isn’t he? Honestly, this is hilarious, he always gets so flustered when we mention those songs.”

Slowly, Jaskier’s laughter ebbed away. Whatever reaction he had expected, this wasn’t it. The man didn’t even seem to be too bothered about finding out that Geralt was cursed.

At a lack for words for once, he said “Eh, he doesn’t really like my singing.”

The wolf twitched his ears and made a throaty sound. The man stopped laughing, but kept the grin on his face.

“Are you kidding me? That man has no taste. Your songs are great. Do you have any idea how much easier it is for witchers now to go to taverns without getting attacked by bigoted arseholes? I imagine, it’s even easier for him, actually being in the company of the famous bard, but you have made all of our lives easier.”

Jaskier beamed at him. He had hoped to have this effect with his songs and he had seen a bit of it in the way people treated Geralt around him, but he never imagined that the other witchers would be affected as well.

The witcher held his hand out to him.

“It’s an honour to meet you, Jaskier. I am Eskel, of the school of the wolf.” Jaskier shook his hand. “So, about this curse. As brave as it is of you to try and break it on your own, I assume you need some help.”

Jaskier breathed a sigh of relief.  
He told Eskel about how Geralt had gotten cursed (conveniently leaving out the part, where he sort of inspired Zofia with his broken-hearted tale of woe) and how he had tried and failed to break it.

During his exposition, they had sat down at the side of the road again.  
Now Eskel looked at him strangely.

“You want to break the curse with love?”

“Is this not how it’s done? I asked a sorceress and she-“

Eskel cut him short. “No, no, you are right. Love does usually break those sort of spells. But haven’t you heard? Witchers don’t fall in love.”

There was a barely repressed bitterness in his tone. Jaskier was perplex. It took him a second to answer.

“Haven’t you heard? I don’t give a shit about what those stories about you say. In case you haven’t noticed, I write my own stories, thank you very much.”

Eskel gave him a genuine smile. He looked at Geralt.

“I like him. Make sure to not drive him off.”

Geralt snorted and looked away. Eskel turned back to Jaskier.

“Well, in case you do get tired of him, you can always come travel with me.”

This earned Eskel a low growl from Geralt. Eskel only laughed.

“Well, he is quite possessive, isn’t he?”

Jaskier caught Geralt’s look and decided it was best to ignore that statement.

“Anyways, you agree that true love could break his curse?” Eskel nodded. “The problem is I don’t know who it is that Geralt loves. I thought I did, but apparently I was completely wrong. So, do you have any idea, who it could be?”

Eskel hesitated and exchanged a look with the wolf-witcher. Geralt send him a growl and bared his teeth.

“I’m afraid, I can’t tell you. Geralt would probably maul me, if I said anything.”

Jaskier froze. “You mean to tell me that he doesn’t want me to know? That all this time he had been _intentionally_ unhelpful? Then of course we’re not going to break the curse.”

Eskel held up his hand in a pacifying gesture.

“I am sur, he has his reasons. Give him time. I will keep an ear open for any information about these types of curses. Maybe I can find another cure. If he isn’t back to normal by winter, you should go to Kaer Morhen. I’ll be there too and we’ll have time to try find a different solution.”

Jaskier sat up. “You’re going to leave us again? I thought, you could help us look for his beloved.”

Eskel kept his eyes locked on Geralt.

“I believe you will have to figure this out on your own. I don’t think Geralt would appreciate me getting involved in his love life, as much as I would love to stick around and watch. And I am still a witcher, I have a job to do.”

He stood up and Jaskier followed his example.

“Once again, it was great, finally meeting you, after hearing so much about you.”

“It was good meeting someone from Geralt’s family as well.”

Eskel made to leave, when something caught his attention. He lifted his hand to Jaskier’s face.

“You’ve got something there, some weed-“

He picked the torn flower Geralt had given Jaskier from his hair.

“No wait!”

He stopped the witcher’s hand and took back the flower.  
Out of the corner of his eye he saw Geralt’s shoulders slump, he turned away and whined barely audible.

“I like it there.”

Eskel shrugged. “Well, if you say so. Goodbye, Jaskier. And I hope to see you back to normal soon, Geralt!”

He waved at both of them and went on his way. Jaskier followed him with his eyes until he had rounded a corner.

“I didn’t know there where witchers that talked so much. I had assumed you were all just grunts and swearwords,” he teased.

When he didn’t get a reaction, he frowned.

“Are you alright?”

It was a stupid question. Geralt avoided his eyes and was still deflated.  
Jaskier threaded his fingers through his fur and the tension in Geralt’s back slowly eased.

“Eskel is lovely, but I do have to say I prefer my witchers silent and mysterious. Also he has no appreciation for beauty. Calling my lovely flower a weed. How dare he!”  
He dropped his teasing tone. “Honestly Geralt, I love the flower. And I would much rather keep travelling with you than with him.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I tried my hand at writing fluff and all I come up with is a broken flower. Ah well. 
> 
> Also I don't know much about Eskel. In the book I read he is only mentioned in like two sentences. But from what I've read in other fanfics, he seems like a guy who would find out about his brother/ friend getting cursed and would immediately laugh at them.
> 
> As always, thanks for all your lovely comments!


	10. Chapter 10

After their chance meeting with Eskel, they became less focussed on their task. Knowing that another witcher was asking around for a cure as well and that they had a safe place to stay for the winter should push come to shove, calmed Jaskier down considerably. That is not to say that he didn’t still ask anyone who’s ever met Geralt whether they loved him, but he became more relaxed. His new-found good mood was contagious and he would find Geralt wagging his tail or jump around him far more than before.

After his supposed disaster of picking a flower for Jaskier, Geralt took to pointing out beautiful flowers and Jaskier always gave him a brilliant smile and plucked the flower. Geralt didn’t know, but he had kept that first flower, the one that was torn up and broken, pressed in his notebook that he always carried with him.

With Geralt’s encouragement, he started playing the lute more often for his own entertainment and he wrote new songs, something which he had neglected to do since trying to break the curse. He was practically back to his old self. There was only one thing he was missing and Geralt was about to remedy that.

At the next market they came across, Geralt tucked on Jaskier’s sleeve as he had made a habit of and dragged him to a tailor’s stall.  
The clothes were not quite as extravagant as what Jaskier used to wear, but they were colourful and far fancier than the seedy jacked Jaskier had worn for the past weeks.

Geralt barked at a blue doublet that matched Jaskier’s eyes and watched his face light up as he looked at it. The bard settled on a price with the tailor and donned his new doublet, spreading his arms and spinning in a circle for Geralt to admire him. The witcher barked and licked the bard’s hand. Then he took off into the crowd, eager to get Jaskier into some tavern and watch him perform as he had before.

One would think, it should have been impossible for Jaskier to lose a big, white wolf in a marketplace, but it only took one stop at a stall to buy a treat for Roach and the wolf had disappeared from his view. Jaskier let out a quiet curse and pushed through the crowd.

Someone jostled against him. Jaskier managed to keep his balance, but the other person stumbled and fell.

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” Jaskier said and held his hand out to help the man up.

He had dusty blond hair that fell to his shoulders and he looked like had seen better days before. The blonde made to grab Jaskier’s hand when his gaze reached Jaskier’s face.

His hand froze mid-air. His brows furrowed, as if he tried to place Jaskier. Jaskier gave him a smile. Maybe the man was just shy around strangers.

“I’m sorry. My name is Jaskier, I’m a bard. You might have heard me sing here before. I came to this town about a year ago. You can come watch me play today, if you want to.”

The man’s eyes widened.

“The bard. I…yes, I have heard of you.”

Jaskier’s smile turned pleased, as the man finally took his hand and let him haul him up. The man hesitated for a second.

“Say, where do you perform?”

Jaskier gave him the direction to the tavern where he had left Roach at. The stranger nodded in contemplation.

“I hope I’ll see you there! But now I have to get back, my dog is probably worried about what’s taking me so long.”

They parted ways. After a few steps, Jaskier turned around to wave at the man. His new acquaintance didn’t see it though. He had turned away and carried on. Jaskier noticed a slight limp in his walk. The poor man. Hopefully he would see happier days soon. Jaskier shrugged and weaved his way through the people.

He met Geralt again at the edge of the mart, barking to gain his attention.  
Together they strolled through the town, Jaskier waving his hands around enthusiastically while talking and Geralt listening to every word the bard spoke, occasionally letting out a grunt. It was almost like old times.

Jaskier pranced around the tavern, singing from his heart. He was back in his element, charming the tavern-goers and making women swoon.  
The only difference to his former performances was that the winks he sent out were exclusively for Geralt, who sat to the side, while the bard played his songs.

When they had started travelling together after Geralt’s transformation, people were often too distracted by the massive wolf sitting in their midst to give the bard the attention he so craved and deserved.  
Now, that wasn’t a problem anymore. Word had gotten around of the bard and his lupine companion. People joked that Jaskier had swapped one White Wolf for the other, to which Jaskier often replied with a laugh and an “it seems I have a type”, before continuing singing some suggestive jig.

Tonight he sang a new song he had finally gotten around to write, about a brave wolf who came to his rescue in his hour of need and had protected him from bandits. It was a catchy song and had people clap and dance along with the chorus.

Jaskier ended his performance with a sweeping bow to his audience and made his way back to Geralt.

“How did you like that last song, my dear friend?,” he asked while eying the tankard of ale that was placed before him.

Geralt yapped and pushed his head against Jaskier’s shoulder. The bard laughed.

“I knew you would get around to liking my singing eventually.”

He scanned the room. Although it was full, he couldn’t find a single familiar face.  
Well, a new audience was always a pleasure to play for.  
He finished his ale, refusing to let Geralt have some as well. Though the witcher certainly could handle his alcohol, he wasn’t so sure whether the wolf could stomach the drink. And he didn’t want to find out the hard way.

The next day, it couldn’t be called the morning, since Jaskier had slept in, which gave Geralt the opportunity to study his sleeping face, they left the town.  
Jaskier had his lute slung over the shoulder and held Roaches reins in one hand while gesturing wildly with the other.

He was interrupted by Geralt, who suddenly pitched his ears and started growling. Jaskier halted. It had been a while since Geralt had growled at him like this.

His confusion was quickly eased, when he heard uneven footsteps on the road behind him.  
The turned around and was greeted by a familiar sight. It was the man he had met on the marked the day before. Jaskier waved at him, as he limped closer.

“Why, hello! I didn’t think, we’d meet again.”

The other man gave a tight smile, when he saw Geralt. The fur at his neck stood on end and he had bared his teeth.

“Ah, yes, I’m afraid, I couldn’t catch your performance. But I heard it was really good. Especially that one song about a wolf protecting a bard. From what I heard it was a crowd favourite.”

Jaskier didn’t even try to hide his proud smile.

“I’m pleased to hear. I wasn’t sure about the happy tune. The inspiration for the song was rather grim after all.”

The blonde gave him a levelled look. “Oh was it now?”

Jaskier was about to launch into an explanation, but Geralt cut him off by pushing himself between the two men. The snarled at the not-quite-a-stranger, who let out a barely muffled, terrified scream and stumbled backwards. Jaskier pushed Geralt aside and steadied the man.

“I’m sorry for that. He usually is more considerate. Especially when he can see that the other person is injured,” he said sending a pointed look at Geralt at his last words.

The man grunted. “It’s not a new injury. And you could say that beasts like him don’t like me very much.”

Jaskier gave him a compassionate pat on the arm.

“I take it you were bitten by a dog?”

“More like mauled.”

“I’m sorry. But I promise that Geralt here is well behaved. He knows better than to bite people.”

He gave Geralt another reprimanding look. The man let out a bitter laugh.

“Don’t be sorry for my leg. At least I got away from the hell-beast. My friends weren’t so lucky.”

Jaskier swallowed against the lump that was forming in his throat. He knew too well the feeling of losing a friend. Even if he had eventually gotten him back.

“I’m sorry for your loss.”

“You know, it is funny,” the man’s voice came out pressed. “I thought, I had moved on with my life. I got a better job, even started wooing a lady. I had almost suppressed what had happened, my leg as the only reminder. But yesterday something happened. Just something small, not even worth mentioning to most. But it made me realize something.”

Jaskier hesitantly backed away a bit.  
For some reason the man’s tone made him nervous. Geralt moved between them again and was met by the man’s hardened eyes.

“I realized that I could not go on without having at least tried to revenge my friends. To look their murderers in the eye, while I tell them that I am still here to finish what we started.”

Before Jaskier could say anything, he saw flash of steel. The man had pulled out a knife and was swinging it at Geralt.  
Jaskier let out a startled scream and ran forward. How could he have been so stupid? Geralt had known all along that this man meant him harm. He had probably even recognized him as the bandit, they had let escape on the night they met again.

Memories of that night flashed through his mind. Memories of the wolf bleeding. Of him almost dying. Of Geralt jumping in front of him, taking the wound in his stead. He jumped.

For a second his mind went blank. His memories stopped. There was a sound.

He didn’t know what it was. Was it screaming? Whose scream was it? Maybe it wasn’t even human. It took a second for the pain to catch up with him. His stomach was burning.

Hot, white pain.

The sounds became clearer as his pain crashed over him all at once, making him gasp. It had been a scream. It turned into a whimper, as Jaskier felt his knees impact on the ground. He sank down and landed on his back.

A dissonant chord accompanied his fall. The snapping of strings, splintering of wood. 

His fingers reached towards his abdomen. They were numb as they felt for the knife that was still stuck in him. His hand fell down weakly, before he could reach it. He needed…Geralt, where was he?

Sudden terror overcame him.  
What if the bandit had had another hidden weapon, one that he couldn’t save Geralt from?

Gathering all his strength, he tried to drag himself to him. He barely managed to turn on his side, before his arms gave out and he fell back. Small stones cut into his face. Black dots clouded his vision and fire exploded in his stomach. He opened his mouth. No sound came out. He tried again. His voice came out hoarse and he coughed up blood.

“Geralt.”

He couldn’t die alone. He had been terrified of dying before, but not like this. With the djinn, he had fallen to the ground with the knowledge that he could die. But back then, he had Geralt by his side to catch him.

Now, he couldn’t see the witcher. Jaskier’s arms reached out helplessly.  
He whispered the name again.

And again.

He didn’t know how often he did. But it was the one thing on his mind. He couldn’t stop.

His fingers found something warm and soft.  
He blinked and slowly his vision returned. It was still hazy and his eyes threatened to drift shut, but he thought he could make out a wolf. The beast’s mouth was covered in blood.

He couldn’t keep his eyes open. The lids were too heavy. He needed to sleep.

But the wolf didn’t let him. A gentle but insistent nudge on his shoulder. Something wet on his face.  
He opened his eyes again. The wolf was closer now, pressed against him and whined. He looked at him with bright yellow eyes.

Yellow on blue.

No, it wasn’t just a wolf. Slowly the fog in his mind lifted. The wolf was Geralt. He was his friend and he needed him.

“Fuck,” Jaskier gasped. “Don’t you think I will leave you now.”

He tried to push himself up again. Geralt whined and tried to steady him, but Jaskier’s arms were to weak. He felt his muscles tremble from the effort. His determination would only get him so far.

“I promised.”

His voice was weak. He knew he wouldn’t last much longer. Geralt pressed his head against him. He needed him.

“I promised I would stay with you for as long as you needed me.”

Tears slipped down his face, mixing with the blood that was coming out of his mouth with every word he spoke.

“I love you and I will not stop until I break that fucking-”

His voice broke off and he felt himself slip back into unconsciousness. He didn’t even feel the impact of his head hitting the ground anymore. It almost felt like he was being cradled.

As the darkness embraced him, he thought he heard a voice. A familiar, deep voice, calling out to him, as if he was back with his friend. He smiled.  
What a beautiful thought to be his last.


	11. Chapter 11

They say before you die, your whole life flashed before your eyes. 

What a bunch of bullshit.  
Jaskier couldn’t remember a time in his life where he woke up sputtering some disgusting liquid that someone had tried to force down his throat.  
He thought he heard someone talk to him, but he couldn’t make out words. His eyelids were too heavy to open. All he could focus on was the bitter taste in his mouth and the pain that slowly ebbed into a dull ache.

He was jolted awake again. He had lost all sense of orientation. Hadn’t he been on the floor? Why was the world moving around him?  
He felt the sudden urge to vomit, but couldn’t tighten his muscles enough to do so. He let out a pained moan instead.  
Something around his waist tightened. A grip. Someone was holding him as the world raced by in a steady rhythm. He thought he heard his name.  
Why was this voice making it so damn hard to sleep?

The next time he awoke, he was decidedly more comfortable. There was no nauseating movement around him and the floor wasn’t as hard as it used to be.  
No, that wasn’t right. This wasn’t the ground; he was lying on a bed.  
He forced his eyes open and was met with an unfamiliar sight. The room was too bright and he had to blink to shield himself from the headache that came with the light.  
When his eyes finally adjusted, he looked around. There wasn’t much in here, except for the bed, some flowers and _his lute_.  
Jaskier’s breath hitched. His beloved instrument was here, was saved! It looked like it did the day Filavandrel had gifted it to him. Not a scratch, like it had been magically fixed. He turned to the other side and –

“Oh fuck!”

His heart raced and he cringed back as he saw the sorceress look at him with a raised eyebrow.

“What a nice way to greet your saviour,” Yennefer deadpanned.

“If this is the afterlife, I would like to complain.”

Yennefer rolled her eyes. “You complain anyway. And this isn’t the afterlife. It might have been if you hadn’t had Triss’ potion. And I am insulted that you would think I was not competent enough to heal a measly stab wound.”

“Excuse you! I have you know that that wound was very much not measly.”

Yennefer didn’t grace him with an answer. She stood up and went to the door.   
Jaskier sat up and was relieved to find that all pain was gone. She hadn’t even left a little ache just to spite him.

“Wait, where are you going?,” he called after her.

Without turning around, she replied. “I’m telling your lover that you are awake. Maybe he’ll finally stop with the pacing and the flowers.”

The door closed behind her and Jaskier heard muffled voices.  
His mind hadn’t caught up with Yennefer’s words yet. He was to distracted by the fact that he was alive. How on earth had he gotten here? He definitely didn’t walk here on his own, that was for sure.

Cautiously, he lifted his shirt. All that was left of the wound was a thin, silver scar that stretched across his abdomen. He carefully traced it with a finger. Jaskier winced and dropped the hem of his shirt, when the door suddenly burst open.

It took him a second to register what he saw.  
Silver-white hair, yellow eyes that pierced his soul, _human_ features.

“Geralt!” He jumped out of the bed and flung himself into the witcher’s arms. “You’re back, you're you! How-“ he faltered.

Yennefer’s words came back. _Your lover_.  
He remembered thinking he was going to die, remembered fighting to stay awake to save Geralt, because he loved him, remembered telling him- Oh.  
He hadn’t caught the mocking tone in Yennefer’s voice, but it must have been there. If Geralt wasn’t a wolf anymore that meant that he must have heard Jaskier’s confession, must have realised that his feelings were true and even strong enough to break the curse even while being one-sided.  
After all, no one had ever said that the love must be requited, Jaskier had just assumed… and he wanted Geralt to come back and be happy, being in his beloved’s arms.  
Instead Geralt had to face a stupid pining bard. A bitter taste filled his mouth.

He took a step back and cleared his throat awkwardly. He squirmed under Geralt’s concerned stare that roamed over him and lingered on his abdomen, where his shirt had ridden up. Self-conscientiously, he fixed it.  
He wished Geralt would say something, anything. Talking to him as a wolf had been so much easier, somehow. At least then he had the probably unintentional body language to go off of. Geralt in human form was unmoving as a rock.  
The silence stretched on. Jaskier didn’t dare break it, he would rather wait for his garrotter to swing the axe and break his heart with his words. Eventually, Geralt was the one who spoke first.

“You have a scar.”

Jaskier almost laughed, but his throat was too tight. “I do. Now we match.” He kicked himself. Of all the things he could have said, _that’s_ what his stupid mouth chose? In hoped of distracting from his slip-up, he quickly added “But at least I’m alive. Thanks to you, I assume.” His voice sounded stiff and distant even in his own ears.

“Hmm.” He saw Geralt work his jaw slightly. “And I am back, thanks to you.”

Jaskier licked his lips. “Yes, that. We don’t have to talk about that, if you don’t want to, I-“

“You told me, you loved me.”

Jaskier froze. He prayed, he had misheard Geralt. He couldn’t have really just said that, thrown his own words back at him like he wasn’t breaking Jaskier’s heart.  
Jaskier turned away, hoping to hide the pain that was surely written all over his face. He pushed his hair out of his face, just to have something to do.

He heard a quiet “Fuck” from Geralt. Jaskier couldn’t agree more.  
The witcher took his wrist in his hand and gently turned him back to him. Now this was just cruel, making Jaskier look him in the eyes as he shattered his heart.

“Jaskier,” Geralt’s voice broke off and he had to begin again. “Jaskier, I thought, I had lost you. I thought you were dead.”

Jaskier let out a startled laugh that bordered on hysteric. “Yeah, that’s for making me believe you were dead, back with the griffin. We’re even now.”  
Geralt ignored that jab. “I thought you were dead and I wouldn’t get the chance to say it back.”

Jaskier’s heard skipped a beat. He couldn’t mean- he couldn’t possible mean what his heart screamed at him, what his hopes wanted him to believe so badly. His eyes landed on the flowers next to his bed. Cornflowers. No, he shouldn’t hope. He couldn’t. But what if…

“What?,” he breathed.

Grealt looked him in the eyes. He could see concern and a flicker of doubt.

“I thought I couldn’t tell you that I love you too. Because I do, Jaskier. You must have known. The curse would not have been broken otherwise.”

Jaskier just stared at him, for once at a loss of words. He saw Geralt swallow and lower his eyes. The witcher released his wrist and Jaskier immediately missed the warmth of his hand.  
Geralt took a step back, giving him space. Surely, he was waiting for Jaskier to speak, to react in some way to his confession, but the wordsmith was frozen, no words were even close to enough to convey what he felt.  
It was now, that while the bard couldn’t speak, the silent witcher found his words.

“It was years ago, that I told you, I didn’t need anyone. And that I didn’t want anyone leaving me. I can’t believe it took me this long, to find out how wrong I was.  
Being a wolf…it was frustrating. For once, I was helpless. I couldn’t protect you from the Leshen. Fuck, I almost killed you back then. It was you, who protected me. From hurting you. From the scorn of the people, as so often before. And I wished I could have protected you. You know better than anyone that I am not a man of many words. But there were so many times that I wished I had my voice, had any way of telling you that I needed you.  
And then you were hurting again, because of me. Because I needed you and you wanted to help me. I wished I could have told you then that your safety and your happiness are more important than me. I couldn’t then, but I can now. I thank you for everything you have done for me. Not only as a wolf, but also back when I could have told you how much I appreciate you and didn’t.”

Having been stuck as a wolf must have really left a mark on him. Jaskier couldn’t remember a time that he had spoken so much at once. He couldn’t help but wonder how much the witcher must have carried around with him, unable to express. How much he had _tried_ to tell Jaskier and him completely miss it. That question was answered, as Geralt continued.

“I don’t expect you to forgive to me and come back to me now. I do remember what you said the night you found out who I was. You wouldn’t travel with me again, if I didn’t apologize and showed you how much you mean to me.”

Jaskier winced. He hadn’t thought Geralt would remember that.

“And you were right to say that. I was unfair to you. On the mountain and before that, pushing you away. I didn’t mean any of it. I know that doesn’t make it better. I have seen what damage those words did to you and can’t undo that.  
But know that I am sorry and I have regretted my words as soon as I spoke them.”

The witcher’s eyes flickered back to him. “And if you let me, I would like to show you how much I appreciate you. If life has given me one blessing, it was to lead you into my life.”

Geralt hesitated. “I will have to get back to Kaer Morhen this winter, if only to tell Eskel that he can stop looking for a cure. You can- that is, if you wanted to, you could come with me. And I believe it is time that I meet princess Cirilla. I could use some help of someone who is actually good with people, someone she could enjoy being around.”

Hope shone from Geralt’s eyes, but also the determination that should Jaskier not accept his apology and told him to get lost, he would have to accept that.

Jaskier hesitated. Hearing Geralt speak so much and talk about his feelings so freely was uncharted territory. He didn’t know how to react and it was obvious that the witcher was uncomfortable, laying his feelings bare.

There was a hint of a shudder in Geralt’s voice as he hastily added. “I don’t want to pressure you. You don’t have to accept.”  
Jaskier reached out and took Geralt’s hand back in his. He could hear the witcher’s breath hitch. Suddenly the words were there again, clear as day.

“And yet…here we are. I would love to come with you. You have taken care of me these past few weeks, more than I have taken care of myself. And I’m not coming back to you, because of a sense of guilt or obligation, but because I can see you trying. I trust you to not break my heart. But I will not let you tear it out again.”

His words put a smile on Geralt’s face like he had never seen before, it was full of relief and hope and dare he say, love.

“I won’t. Jaskier, I promise you, I will treasure your heart.”

Jaskier bit his lip. “And I will treasure yours. But… I would like to take it slow. I do love you and you don’t know how happy I am that it is mutual. But could we maybe just travel for a while? Get back to being friends before we try to be anything more?”

Something twisted in his chest. There had been so much heartbreak and so much both of them had to adjust to, but what if Geralt didn’t agree?  
The witcher squeezed his hand lightly.

“Anything you will give I will gladly take. I will wait for you. And if you decide that you never want to be anything but friends, then I will take your friendship.”

They just stood there for a moment, holding hands and locked eyes, surrounded by their flowers.  
Then Geralt said “How do you feel about seeing Cintra?”

Jaskier beamed at him.

“I think Cintra sounds wonderful.”

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Winter had come and gone and the first flowers of spring came into bloom, when Yennefer of Vengerberg stepped inside an inn in a small town.  
She had never been here before, only having ever visited the neighbouring towns, but the atmosphere felt familiar nonetheless.

She sat down at a table near the entrance. A waiter came and started talking to her. He didn’t make it far into the conversation, before he was rudely interrupted by the innkeeper yelling at him.

“Mikolaj! Quit flirting and do yer fuckin’ job!”

The man let out a long-suffering sigh. “Kamil is always so demanding.”

He left, muttering to himself and had to take a step to the side to avoid the brightly coloured bard who was twirling around the room while singing his newest composition.  
It was a song about a witcher who had after many trials and errors found love and family.

Yennefer smiled, as she watched Jaskier give a bow to his audience, before walking up to a man who was sitting in the back of the pub-room underneath the griffin-wing that adorned the wall.

He was met by a proud smile from the witcher and exited applause from the blond girl sitting next to him.  
Jaskier swept one of Ciri’s hands up and gave her a quick kiss on the knuckles that had her giggling at his silliness.  
Then he turned to Geralt, who looked at him fondly. Slowly Jaskier cupped the witcher’s cheek tentatively and and kissed him. The witcher returned the tender kiss.

Yennefer smiled to herself smugly. It had taken those idiots long enough.  
Months ago, when Jaskier had asked for her help in breaking the curse, she had had her doubts. But considering this outcome, her idiots finally happy and together, she found that she couldn’t regret answering her door almost a year ago and telling an angry girl how to curse someone to become a wolf.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this is it. Thank you all so much, for sticking with me and supporting me! Your kind words mean so much to me.   
> I didn't really plan on writing anything else, but I really enjoyed writing this. So I'm not making any promises, but if there are any other tropes you like to read about or if inspiration strikes me, I might just write something again :)   
> All my love goes out to you <3


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